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ata 


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THE    STORY 
OF    THE    INDIAN 


/ 


iiv 


GEORGE    BIRD   GRINNELL 

AUTHOR   OF    PAWNHE    HKKO    STOKIKS    AND    POLK    TALIiS, 
BLACKFOOr    LODGE    TALES,    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


'i 

I 

I 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1895 


.# 


COPYRIOHT,    1895, 

By  D.   APl'LETON  AND  COMPANY. 


EDITOR'S  NOTE. 


The  books  wliicli  are  to  jijipear  in  tliis  series;  are 
intended  to  i)resent  peenliar  and  characteristic  phases 
of  earlier  development  in  that  portion  of  our  coun- 
try which  lies  beyond  the  Missouri  Kiver.  The  spe- 
c^-xlization  of  American  histoiy  has  found  expression 
in  numerous  studies  of  the  colonial  life  of  New  Enjr- 
land,  New  York,  and  Virginia,  indeed,  all  the  Eastern 
seaboard,  and  in  discussions  of  explorations  westvAard 
like  those  of  the  Spaniards  to  the  south  and  the 
French  to  the  north,  and  of  migrations  away  from 
the  seaboard,  like  the  movement  across  the  Blue  Ridge 
to  Kentucky,  and  the  various  patriarchal  journeyings 
which  began  the  settlement  of  Ohio  and  the  middle 
West.  The  final  occupation  of  the  real  West  has  come 
about  almost  in  our  own  time.  The  first  white  male 
child  born  in  Kansas  is  an  honoured  resident  of  the  State 
to-day,  and  Kansas  is  venerable  in  comparison  with 
States  and  Territories  beyond.  Speaking  roughly,  the 
Missouri  divides  sections  very  dissimilar  in  certain 
characteristics  of  their  evolution.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  political  differences,  like  those  which  have  sundered 
Kansas  and  Missouri,  but  of  differences  due  to  the 
strength  of  the  Indian  holding,  the  character  of  a  soil 
fitted  throughout  vast  areas  for  grazing  rather  than 
cultivation,  and  the  presence  of  stores  of  treasure  in 

V 


VI 


KDITOll'S  NOTK. 


two  niiglity  moiuitain  systems,  wliicli  liavo  drawn  into 
their  recesses  tlie  trii|.[>er  antl  tiic  hunter  us  well  as 
the  i)r()spector.  For  our  real  West,  therefore,  tlio 
typical  li<,aircs  arc  the  Indiau,  the  explorer,  the  sol- 
dier, the  miner,  the  ranchnuiu,  the  tra})per,  if  we  take 
iuto  consideration  the  northern  fur  trade,  and  the 
railroad  builder.  The  re])resentative  explorer  may  bo 
found  in  Lewis  and  Clarke,  or  I'ike  or  Fremont,  or 
that  more  remote  and  romantic  Argonaut,  Coronado. 
The  soldier  has  never  received  a  tithe  of  justice  for 
the  heroism  of  his  lonely  and  perilous  service  on  the 
plains.  The  miner's  kaleidoscopic  career,  ranging 
from  the  grub-staked  prospector  to  the  millionaire 
gambling  on  the  stock  exchange  with  loaded  dice,  has 
been  too  obvious  to  be  neglected  in  the  past,  and  the 
comi)lete  story,  as  illustrated  "on  the  Comstock,"  will 
be  unfolded  by  Mr.  KShinn.  AVith  these  figures  the 
AVest  has  oiTered  us  the  cowboy,  that  most  individual 
and  picturesque  of  types,  and,  following  tiie  soldier 
and  oftentimes  preceding  settlement,  the  railroad 
builder.  'I'lie  hitter's  perilous  reconnaissances,  stormy 
life  in  the  construction  camps,  and  warfare  with 
Indians,  thugs,  and  sometimes  with  rival  builders, 
deserve  well  of  the  historian  who  cares  for  human  in- 
terest and  not  merely  for  the  engineering  diflticulties 
overcome,  and  the  financial  results.  There  are  other 
types,  like  the  one  afforded  by  the  noble  figure  of 
Father  Junipero  Serra  and  by  the  hunter,  the  pony 
express  rider,  the  road  agent,  and  later  the  men  of 
the  wheat  and  fruit  ranches,  and  the  irrigating 
ditch,  and  those  curious  children  of  Islimael,  the 
"  boomer  "  and  "  sooner."  But  if  we  take  the  phases 
typified  in  the  figures  which  I  have  emphasized  it 
is  plain  that  the  series  of   pictures  will  be  Individ- 


EDITOR'S  NOTE. 


\n 


iial,  nicy  of  tlic  Western  soil  in  tlie  truest  sense, 
und  also  of  permanent  historical  value,  since  they 
will  preserve  in  delinite  form  these  picturesque  and 
original  aspects  of  Western  development  of  which 
we  are  ai)t  to  catch  only  distorted  and  fleeting 
glimpses.  This  is  the  object  of  a  series  planned 
through  the  editor's  knowledge  of  the  real  West,  a 
knowledge  gained  by  actual  ex])eriences  of  ranch  and 
mining  and  Indian  life  between  Sonora  and  Van- 
couver and  Texas  and  Dakota,  and  also  through  a 
love  for  the  types  illustrated,  a  desire  to  record  their 
characteristics  before  they  have  entirely  vanished,  and 
a  hearty  belief  in  what  1  may  term  their  pictorial 
value  for  the  historian. 

There  is  no  word  simpler  and  more  elastic  than  the 
word  story  to  describe  the  plan  of  the  series,  and  al- 
though we  shall  deal  with  the  realities  of  liistory,  the 
liumbler  term  seems  more  broadly  significant.  These 
books  are  intended  to  be  stories  of  human  interest,  not 
categories  of  facts.  Air.  (jirinnell,  for  example,  might 
have  written  a  history  of  the  Indian  tribes  west  of  the 
]\Iissouri,  which  would  have  been  onlv  a  valuable  re- 
pository  of  facts.  But,  instead  of  this,  Mr.  Crinnell 
takes  us  directly  to  the  camp  fire  and  the  council.  He 
shows  ns  the  Indian  as  a  man  subject  to  like  passions 
and  infirmities  with  ourselves.  He  shows  ns  how  the 
Indian  wooed  and  fought,  how  he  hunted  aiid  prayed, 
how  he  ate  and  slept — in  short,  we  are  admitted  to 
the  real  life  of  the  red  man,  and  as  we  learn  to  know 
him  we  discard  two  familiar  images  :  the  red  man  of 
the  would-be  philanthropic  sentimentalist,  and  the 
raw-head-and-bloody-bones  figure  that  has  whooped 
through  so  many  pages  of  fiction.  A  typical  explorer 
and  a  typical  mine  will  be  the  subjects  of  volumes 


I 


Vlll 


KDlTUlfS  NoTi:. 


closely  following  this.  In  cacli  case  tho  clTort  will  ho 
to  embody  tho  t'sscntijil  IVatiiivs  of  the  general  theme 
in  one  de&cri])tive  history  with  one  central  point  of 
interest,  thus  forming  a  series  free  from  cumbersome 
details,  but  breathing  the  spirit  and  preserving  the 
cpudities  of  reality.  Since  the  subjects  form  a  })art  of 
our  hit'.ory  tliey  will  bo  treated  with  a  view  to  the  his- 
torical student's  denumd  for  exactness  of  statement 
and  souiulncss  of  inference,  and  since  these  stories 
illustrate  a  most  ronumtic  phase  of  our  ])ast,  the  ele- 
ments of  colour  and  atmosphere  and  quick  human 
interest  are  insei)arable  from  the  treatment.  Either 
older  or  younger  readers  who  care  to  live  over  again 
certain  wholly  individual  phases  of  our  country's  his- 
tory may,  it  is  lioped,  draw  from  these  volumes  some 
such  sense  of  the  reality  of  romantic  liistory  as  Park- 
man  lias  left  us  in  his  pictures  of  the  earlier  phases  of 
Canadian  life  and  history,  in  his  Oregon  Trail  and  his 
Discovery  of  the  Great  West. 


iXTijonrcTioy 


I 


Tins  volume  nii^ht  be  eiilled  one  of  recollections, 
for  in  it  luive  been  set  down  niany  memories  of  Indian 
life.  I'he  scenes  described  I  have  witnessed  with  my 
own  eyes;  the  stories  related  are  tliose  which  have 
been  told  me  by  the  Indians  themselves. 

These  stories  are  introduced  freely  l)ecausc  the  con- 
crete example  conveys  a  clearer  idea  of  an  event  than 
an  abstract  statement,  and  because  the  story  of  the 
Indian  should  not  be  told  wholly  from  the  point  of 
view  of  a  race  alien  in  thought,  feeling,  and  culture. 
No  narrative  about  any  peo])le  can  do  them  justice  if 
written  by  one  who  is  not  in  some  degree  in  sympathy 
with  them,  and  acquainted  with  their  ways  of  thought 
and  with  the  motives  which  govern  them.  Before  an 
intelligent  account  of  it  can  be  given,  the  stranger  race 
jnust  be  comprehended.  Long  association  with  Indi- 
ans enables  a  white  man  ultimately  to  share  their 
thought  and  feelings ;  and  he  who  has  reached  this 
point  nnderstands  the  Indian.  He  understands  that 
the  red  man  is  a  savage  and  has  savage  qualities,  yet 
he  sees  also  that  the  most  impressive  characteristic  of 
the  Indian  is  his  humanity.  For  in  his  simplicity,  his 
vanity,  his  sensitiveness  to  ridicule,  his  desire  for  re- 
venge, and  his  fear  of  the  supernatural,  he  is  a  child 
and  acts  like  one. 


IX 


X 


INTUODICTKlV. 


\Vo  .'ire  too  ft{)t  to  forgot  that  tlicsc  poojilc  arc  liu- 
nmn  like  oursi'lvi's;  that  thoy  are  fathers  and  niolliers, 
Inishaiuls  and  wives,  brothers  and  sisters  ;  men  and 
women  with  emotions  and  ])assions  like  our  own,  even 
ti»oii<^h  these  feelings  aro  not  well  regnlated  and  di- 
rected in  the  ealin,  smoothly  flowing  channels  of  civil- 
ized life.  Kot  until  wo  recognise  this  common  hu- 
manity may  we  attain  the  broader  view  and  the  wider 
sym])athy  which  shall  give  us  a  true  comprehension  of 
the  character  of  the  Indian. 

'J'he  })resent  volume  professes  to  give  only  a  general 
view  of  Indian  life,  and  many  interesting  toi>ics  have 
necessarily  been  referred  to  only  incidentally.  In  t!io 
stories  given  1  have  followed  the  language  of  the  in- 
ter[)reters  through  whom  1  received  their  narratives 
directly  from  the  Indians. 

Mr.  James  Mooney,  of  the  Bureau  of  Kthnology, 
has  very  kindly  read  the  chapter  on  the  ^.'orth  Ameri- 
cans, on  which  he  nuule  a  number  of  valuable  sugges- 
tions, and  for  which  he  furnished  most  of  the  transla- 
tions of  the  tribal  names.  My  friend  Mr.  Charles  H. 
lieynolds  has  read  over  the  whole  manuscript,  and  the 
form  of  the  book  owes  much  to  his  kindly  criticisms. 
To  both  these  gentlemen  my  acknowledgements  aro 
due. 


CONTENTS. 


ciiaptkh 

I.— Ills    rioME 
II. —  RlX'KKATroNS   . 
III.— A    MARRIACiK   . 
IV. — Sl'HSISTKXCK     . 

v.— His  JIlntixu  . 
VI.-TuE  War  Trail 
VI [.—Fortunes  of  War 
VIII.— Prairie  Battlefields  . 
IX.— Implements  and  Industries  . 
X.— Man  and  Nature  .... 

XI. — Ills  Creation 

^^^- — 'J'he  World  of  the  Dead 
XIII.— Pawnee  Kelumon  .... 
XIV.— The  Old  Faith  and  the  New 
^V.— The  Coming  of  the  White  Man  . 

Appendix.— The    Xortii    Americans  — Yesti 
To-day 

Index  . 


DA  V 


AND 


PAOB 

1 

10 

yo 

48 

71 

87 

101 

125 

14;j 

iCa 

183 
105 
203 
314 
234 

341 
2Gl> 


XI 


HH- 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Till:  Distant  Camp , 

Pawnee  Woman  Dressing  a  IIiue    . 

Pawnee  Woman  and  Child 

PiEGAN  Women  and  Children  . 

Indian  Village,    Knight's    Inlet,    British 

SHOWING  Totem  Poles  .... 
I5lacki'o<)t  Ijodges       ..... 

Sioux  Chief 

Crooked  Hand,  a  Pawnee  Brave     . 

PlEGAN    TrAVOIS 

Quatsen.\  Village,  West  Coast  Vancoivkr  I 
Cree  Lodge  and  Red  River  Cart  . 

Pawnee  Dirt  Lodge 

Group  oe  Sapalelle   la   Tltes,  West  Coas 

VER  Island    

Painted  Lodge  Skin 

Navajo  Weaver 

Group  of  Assiniboines       .... 


J 

FAriNO 

PAGE 

frontispiece 

. 

G 

. 

24 

. 

4G 

Columbia, 

. 

06 

. 

93 

. 

104 

. 

125 

. 

loO 

SLANl) 

103 

. 

170 

. 

103 

T  Vancou- 

. 

214 

. 

244 

. 

254 

200 

I^HB 


i 


m 


1 


TlIK   STOPvY  OF   THE   LXDIAN. 


CHAPTER   I. 


HIS    HOME. 

Yi: i.i.ow  im(]cr  the  burning  suii  lies  tlie  far-streteh- 
ing  i)raii-i('.  Jn  o!ie  direction  the  rounded  swells  rise 
and  fall  like  the  heaving  breast  of  ocean  after  a  storm 
lias  passed  ;  in  atiother,  the  ragged  ravine-seamed  soil 
rears  sharp  crests  like  billows  tossed  by  the  storm  in 
fury.  In  the  distance  the  level  sweep  of  the  horizon 
is  broken  by  high  buttes,  some  square-topped  and 
vertical-sided,  others  slender  and  sharp-pointed— like 
huge  fortix-sses  or  cathedral  spires.  All  are  dotted 
here  and  there  with  gnarled,  stunted  black  pines  and 
cedars,  that,  with  tenacious  grip,  cling  to  the  bare 
rocks  from  which  they  draw  a  sustenance — scanty,  vet 
sufficient. 

Scattered  over  the  })rairie  far  and  near  are  the 
wild  denizens  of  this  land :  brown  buffalo  feeding 
or  resting,  yellow  antelope  singly  or  in  groups,  a  fam- 
ily of  wolves  playing  at  the  mouth  of  a  ravine,  prairie 
dogs  in  their  towns,  little  birds  swinging  on  the  tops 
of  the  sage  bushes,  and  over  all  a  blue  arch  in  which 
swings  motionless  a  broad-winged  eagle. 

Away  to  the  westward,  so  far  that  the  forest-clad 


mammamm 


w 


1 


o 


Till-:  STORV    OF   Till-:    INDIAN. 


i 


footliills  aro  purple  witli  distimcc  aiul  tlic  roiigli  rock 
slopes  gniy  with  luize,  staiuls  the  mighty  wall  of  the 
Continental  Divide.  White  and  grey  and  hrown,  snow 
fields  and  rock  peaks,  and  high  naked  plateaus  rear 
rough  outlines  against  the  hlue  of  tlie  summer  sky,  or 
are  blotted  out  mile  by  mile  when  black  storm  clouds 
creep  down  from  the  j)eaks  toward  the  2)lains,  which 
the  summer  storms  never  reach. 

This  is  the  country  of  the  Indian  of  the  West. 

Here  the  prairie  is  split  by  a  great  crooked  gash — 
a  river's  course — to  which  the  ravines  all  run.  Down 
in  the  valley  the  silvery  leaves  of  cottonwood  tremble, 
copses  of  willow  and  bits  of  fresh  growing  grass  stand 
along  the  stream,  and  there  is  the  shimmer  of  flowing 
water,  coolness,  and  shade.     This  is  the  Indian's  home. 

The  cone-shaped  dwellings  stand  in  a  rough  circle 
which  touches  the  river  bank.  Some  of  the  lodges  are 
newly  made,  clean,  and  white  ;  others  are  patched, 
grey  with  weather  stain,  and  smoke  browned  near  the 
top.  Each  conical  home  terminates  in  a  sheaf  of  cross- 
ing lodge  poles,  and  between  the  extended  "  ears " 
shows  a  wide  dark  opening  from  which  rise  curling 
wreaths  of  blue  smoke.  Some  of  the  lodges  are  painted 
in  gay  colours  with  odd  angular  figures  of  men,  and 
animals,  and  guns,  and  camp  fires,  which  tell  in  red, 
black,  or  green  of  the  coups  of  the  owner — his  brave 
deeds  or  strange  adventures.  Here  and  there  from 
the  lodge  poles  of  some  leading  man  hangs  a  bufTalo 
tail,  or  one  or  two  eagle  feathers  are  turning  in  the 
breeze,  or  a  string  of  little  hoof  sheaths,  which  rattle 
as  they  are  shaken  in  the  wind,  runs  from  the  lodge 
poles  nearly  to  the  ground. 

Leaning  against  the  lodges,  and,  if  standing  on 
end,  quite  equalling  the  lodge  poles  in  height,  are  the 


I 


HIS    IIUMK. 


?y 


5? 


on 
the 


tnivois,  tlic  universal  vehiclo.  Ik'fore  or  bt'liind  tlie 
lodges  of  meilicino  men,  cliiefs,  iind  noted  braves  hung 
the  inedieiiio  ))uiidles  of  the  doetors  and  })riests, 
and  the  arms  and  war  dresses  of  the  warriors.  'I'ri- 
pods  of  slender  poles  support  the  sacks  or  bundles,  or 
s(»metimcs  a  lance  is  thrust  iu  the  ground,  and  to  it  is 
tied  the  warrior's  equipment.  The  eagle  featliers, 
scalps,  and  fringes  with  which  these  things  are  orna- 
mented, wave  gaily  in  the  breeze. 

^'ear  the  stream  bank,  above  and  below  the  camp, 
stand  curious  low  frames,  woven  of  willow  branches, 
and  looking  somewhat  like  large  bird  cages  of  wicker- 
work.  Some  arc  oval  and  others  hemispherical,  and  in 
the  ground  which  forms  their  floor  a  little  hollow  is 
dug  out  in  the  centre,  in  which  are  ashes  and  a  num- 
ber of  stones  which  show  the  marks  of  fire,  liesides 
this,  ou  the  ground  outside  each  one,  is  a  spot  where 
a  little  fire  has  been  built,  and  near  the  fireplace  are 
other  round  stones.  These  are  the  sweat  lodges  of  the 
camp,  wliere  are  taken  the  steam  l)aths  used  in  hcjd- 
ing  and  in  certain  religious  rites. 

Up  and  down  the  stream  valley,  and  scattered  over 
the  bordering  blutTs,  are  the  horses,  for  the  most  part 
wandering  at  will,  though  here  and  there  a  group  is 
herded  by  a  boy  or  young  man  who  spends  most  of  his 
time  lying  on  the  ground  in  the  shade  of  his  horse, 
but  now  and  then  clambers  on  its  back  and  gathers 
together  his  little  baiul  or  drives  away  others  that 
seem  disposed  to  mingle  with  it.  There  are  hun- 
dreds— perhaps  thousiinds — of  horses  in  sight,  dot- 
ting the  valley,  the  blutTs,  aiul  even  the  distant  upper 
plains. 

Here  and  there  on  little  elevations,  on  the  points 
of  the  bluffs  or  ou  the  river  bank— usually  on  some 
2 


TIIR   STORY   OF   THE   iNDIAX. 


f 


ooinmiindhif^  cniincnoc — are  single  figures  of  men. 
Closely  \vra])ped  in  his  robe  or  liis  summer  sheet,  eacii 
one  renuiins  apart  from  all  the  others,  and  sits  or 
stands  for  hours  motionless.  These  men  have  left  the 
camp  and  retired  to  smdi  places  to  be  alone.  Some  of 
them  are  praying  ;  some  are  acting  as  sentries,  looking 
over  the  country  to  see  if  enemies  are  a])proaching  ; 
some  desire  to  tliink  out  their  projects  without  fear 
of  interruption  ;  while  it  is  possible  that  among  the  mo- 
tionless figures  may  be  one  who  belongs  to  some  hostile 
tribe  and  has  ventured  thus  boldly  to  expose  himself 
in  order  to  learn  the  ways  of  the  camp,  to  find  out  how 
the  watchers  are  disposed,  wb.cre  the  swiftest  horses 
fire  kept,  at  what  points  an  attack  may  be  made  with 
best  prospects  of  success.  If  such  a  s])y  is  here,  he  is 
for  the  i)resent  safe  from  detection.  lie  feels  sure 
that  no  one  will  approach  him  or  speak  to  him,  for 
when  a  man  goes  oif  in  this  way  by  himself  it  is  un- 
derstood by  all  that  he  wishes  to  be  alone,  and  this 
wish,  is  respected. 

Within  the  circle  of  the  camp  the  daily  life  of  the 
people  is  going  on.  Gloving  forms,  clad  in  bright 
colours,  })ass  to  aiul  fro,  and  people  are  clustered  in 
the  shade  of  the  lodges.  Tied  near  most  of  the  doors 
are  one  or  two  horses  for  immediate  use.  Now  and 
then  the  bark  of  a  dog  falls  upon  the  ear,  and  above 
the  indistinct  hum  of  camp  life  are  heard  the  whoops 
or  shrieks  of  children  at  play. 

Everywhere  groups  of  men  are  seated  in  the  shade, 
smoking,  cliattin.g,  or  sleeping.  Some  are  naked,  some 
clad  only  in  a  blanket,  but  most  wear  leggings  of  deer 
or  cow  skin  and  are  wrapped  in  sheets  of  dressed  cow 
skin.  Here  with  infinite  care  a  young  dandy  is  paint- 
ing himself;  there  a  man  is  sharpening  arrowheads; 


HIS  HOME. 


a  third  is  iiieiuling  a  siuldle ;  iiiiothor  faslii()iiin<i;  a 
pipe  stem. 

VV'itiiuut  the  circle  of  tlic  camp,  otT  toward  the 
bhitr,  stands  a  group  of  men,  some  of  them  naked  to 
the  breccli-clont,  otiicrs,  spectators,  wra})})ed  in  tlieir 
slicets  or  bhmkcts.  At  intervals  two  naked  men  are 
seen  to  dart  out  from  this  group  and  race  along,  near- 
ly side  by  side,  throwing  their  sticks  at  some  object 
that  rolls  along  in  front  of  them.  Often  at  the  end 
of  such  a  ra(.'e  there  is  a  loud-voiced  disj)ute  as  to 
which  contestant  has  won,  in  which  the  two  racers 
and  their  friends  take  part  with  violent  gesticulations 
and  earnest  speech.     This  is  the  stick  or  wheel  game. 

Down  by  one  of  the  sweat  lodges  a  wonum  is  kin- 
dling lires  and  heating  the  stones  in  the  centre  of  the 
Iodide  and  outside.  She  covers  the  frame  with  robes 
or  skins,  so  as  to  keep  the  heat  in.  A  bucket  of  water 
stands  near  the  fire.  Soon  half  a  dozen  young  men 
come  to  the  i)lacc,  and,  following  them,  an  older  man 
who  carries  a  pipe.  As  they  reach  the  lodge,  they 
drop  their  blankets  and  creep  naked  beneath  the  cov- 
ering. After  a  little  the  old  man  is  heard  singing  his 
sacred  songs  and  in  monotonous  voice  praying  for  the 
success  of  those  who  are  about  to  start  on  a  journey 
which  will  be  full  of  danger.  The  woman  passes  a 
vessel  into  the  sweat  house;  the  water  hisses  as  it  falls 
on  the  hot  stones,  and  steam  creeps  forth  from  the 
crevices  in  the  covering.  Then  there  is  more  singing, 
and  other  low-voiced  mumbling,  prayers  in  different 
voices,  and  at  length  after  an  hour,  the  coverings  of 
the  lodge  are  thrown  off,  the  men  creep  out,  rise,  and, 
all  wet  with  perspiration  and  bleeding  where  they 
have  cut  themselves  in  sacrifice,  file  down  to  the 
stream  and  plunge  into  its  cold  waters.     This  is  the 


tB» 


(> 


TIIH   STUUV    OF   TUK    INDIAN. 


nit'diciiie  swrat,  aiul  tlio  voiini;  men  wlio  huve  taken 
part  ill  it  arc  al)oiit  to  start  oil'  on  the  \var[)atli. 

All  (lay  loii^j;  the  women  who  have  remained  in 
camp  have  heen  at  work  tanning  hides,  sewing  lodges, 
making  dried  meat,and  i)oui\diiig  pemmi('an,and  they 
are  still  husy,  though  soon  these  tasks  will  i)e  laid  asido 
for  the  day.  As  yet  they  are  still  bent  double  over 
the  green  hides,  (!hi])j)ing  at  them  with  lleshers,  and 
now  and  then  raising  themselves  for  a  moment's  rest, 
and  with  one  hand  brushing  away  the  overhnnging 
hair  from  their  foreheads,  while  with  hands  on  hi])S 
they  bend  baek  to  streteh  themselves  and  ease  their 
museles.  In  the  shade  of  the  lodges  sit  other  women, 
with  stone  hammers  jiounding  ehoke  cherries  on  flat 
stones.  The  tasks  are  not  performed  in  silence.  The 
little  groups  that  work  near  to  one  another  keep  uj)  a 
lively  tire  of  gossip  and  jest  which  give  rise  to  abun- 
dant merriment.  A  woman  who  has  an  established 
reputation  for  wit  is  telling  with  monotonous  un- 
changing voice  and  without  a  particle  of  expression 
in  her  face  a  story  tliat  overwhelms  her  sisters  with 
mirth.  They  cackle  forth  shrill  laughter,  and  ex- 
change delighted  comment,  but  the  story  goes  on 
without  interruption. 

The  women  wear  sleeveless  leather  gowns  reach- 
ing to  below  the  knees  and  belted  at  the  waist,  and 
from  this  belt  dangle  by  small  chains  or  leather 
thongs  the  knife,  fire  steel,  and  sewing  bag,  which  arc 
a  part  of  each  one's  equipment.  The  gowns  of  the 
older  women  are  often  old  and  worn,  patched  here 
and  there,  and  black  with  blood,  grease,  and  dirt. 
The  clothing  of  the  younger  ones,  the  daughters  or 
wives  of  men  well  to  do,  is  handsome,  being  clean, 
tanned  very  white,  heavily  beaded   and   ornamented 


% 


iC 


■/J 

7; 


a 

o 


I 


HIS   IIOMK. 


with  elk  tnslios,  trimmed  with  red  and  l)liie  cluth,  and 
fringed  at  the  ed^j^cs.  As  a  ride,  the  y()un<,a'r  women 
are  hetter  dressed  and  nuicli  more  earet'nl  of  tiicir 
personal  appearanee  than  those  older,  thou<^'li  some- 
times the  latter  are  neat  and  ^dve  sotne  attention  to 
their  hair. 

Ihit  for  the  women  it  is  not  all  hard  work.  Here 
and  there  <,M'oups  are  to  he  seen  se\vin<;  moccasins  or 
fashioidiii,'  for  hushand  or  children  bnckskin  lc<;;,Mngs, 
shirts,  or  other  aj)parel,  or  ornamenting  snch  elothin<]f 
with  headwork  or  with  beantifully  stained  (piills  of 
the  porcupine.  Jn  these  tasks  much  taste  is  dis- 
jilayed,  sava<;e  thou<fh  it  be.  liesides  these  workers, 
there  are  not  a  few  who  arc  teni])tin*^  fortune.  In 
some  cool  spot  two  lines  of  women  sit  o])posite  each 
other,  and  behijid  each  jKM'son,  or  at  her  side,  is  a 
little  i)ile  of  her  possessions  which  she  is  bettlni;  on 
the  seed  ^^ame,  })layed  with  i)lum  stones  and  a  little 
flat  basket. 

Scattered  about  throutrh  the  camp,  np  and  down 
the  stream  and  on  the  oj)cn  ground  nearly  to  the 
blufTs,  are  the  children  of  these  mothers.  Tl'e  tiniest 
of  them — those  who  have  been  facing  the  fierce  prairie 
sun  oidy  for  a  few  weeks  or  months  —  are  securely 
tied  to  their  boards — the  primitive  cradle — from  which 
they  gaze  solemnly  with  unwinking  eyes  on  this  new 
and  uncomprehended  world.  The  boards  are  hung 
up  on  poles  or  drying  scalTolds  or  travois,  or  lean 
against  a  lodge,  a  sage  bush,  or  even  a  bufTalo  skull, 
and  no  attention  is  i)aid  to  their  occupants,  save  now 
and  then  when  they  whim])er  and  have  to  be  nursed. 
Other  children,  a  little  older,  have  been  freed  from 
this  imprisonment,  and  with  a  bit  of  dried  or  fresh 
meat  in  their  hands  grovel  on  the  ground,  alternately 


8 


Till',  SToliY   OF  TIIM   INDIAN*. 


cliouiii;!^  at  tlic  meat  and  rul)l)iMf;  it  in  tlio  dust  nntil 
tlu'ir  fucTS  arn  j)l('ntit*uiiy  caiad  with  mud.  Sotnc 
havo  ulrcadv  tired  (»f  tlicir  unacjcnstoincd  freedom, 
and  cM'V  piteonsly  to  he  }»nt  hack  on  their  itoards, 
(*easin<;  tlieir  himeiitations  as  soon  as  preparations  aro 
made  to  conline  tiiem  airain. 

The  children  ohl  eiiou<j:h  to  walk  are  comical  to 
look  Jit,  tlion<,'h  rather  troiihlesome  to  live  with. 
The  girls  arc  mostly  clad  in  little  smoeks  .which  reach 
to  their  hare  knees,  but  not  so  much  can  l)e  said  for 
the  clothinjjf  of  tlie  boys.  Some  of  them  have  a  string' 
tied  about  the  waist,  and  some  pet  of  his  father  or 
grandfather  may  have  a  buckskin  string  about  his 
neck  which  carries  a  few  beads  or  an  amulet  to  kee|) 
off  disease  or  the  ghosts.  l''sually,  however,  they  run 
about  clad  oidy  in  their  close-litting  brown  hides, 
which  gather  oidy  a  moderate  amount  of  dii't,  and 
whicli,  when  they  tear,  do  not  have  to  he  nu'iule(i. 

Coming  from  the  direcitiou  of  a  large  lodge  and 
walking  with  downcast  eves  across  the  circle  of  the 
camp,  passes  a  young  gii'l  bearing  in  her  hand  a  cov- 
ered wooden  dish.  She  is  beautifully  clail  in  a  dress 
of  white  skins,  beaded,  fringed,  trimme(l  with  red  cloth 
and  ornamented  with  elk  tushes.  Her  hair  is  shining 
and  neatly  braided  beliind  each  ear,  ami  the  paint  on 
lier  face  and  in  the  parting  of  the  hair  is  bright  and 
fresh.  Closely  following  her,  walks  another  young  girl, 
and  after  thev  have  crossed  the  circle  thev  enter  a  lodge, 
which,  by  its  size  and  ornamentation  ami  bv  the  arms 
and  medicitie  bundles  which  stand  near  it,  is  evidently 
that  of  an  important  man — some  chief.  The  girl  who 
carries  the  food  is  betrothed  to  the  son  of  the  owner  of 
the  lodge  which  she  enters,  for  now — during  the  time 
between  the  arrangement  for  the  marriage  and  its  con- 


1 


i 


i 

i 


lo.Mi:. 


suintnation— slio  .«orvos  licr  fiituro  lord  willi  food  ouch 
(lav,  making  the  journey  fmm  licr  fat!uM''s  IuiIltc  to  his, 
nci'om|>aiiit(l  oiilv  liy  a  .-istcr  or  yoiiii;;  "rirl  friend. 

As  the  siiii  falls  ti»\vai'(l  the  western  hori/on  the  as- 
pect of  the  eatnjt  lK\i,Mns  to  change  ;  there  is  more  ae- 
tivity,  more  jieople  are  movin*;  ahoiit.  'The  wotnen 
\w'/\n  to  put  aside  the  work  of  dressini;  hides,  to  kin- 
dle their  tires  anew,  and  to  ;jo  to  the  stream  fnr  water. 
From  u|i  and  down  the  ereek  and  from  over  the  hlnlT, 
f;in;j:l('  liiiures  and  small  ;;ronpsof  people  are  approaeii- 
iiiLT  tile  eatnp.  Some  of  these  are  wonu'n  who  have 
made  \n]\'j^  jdurneys  to  secure  a  supply  of  wood,  which 
they  hrini,'  home  (»n  their  ha(d\s  or  piled  hi^di  on  the 
do,L^  travois.  Most  of  those  who  are  com in<;  in  are  men 
who  have  been  olT  hunting;  on  the  plains,  killing;  food. 
'I'he  camp  is  in  a  hulTalo  eountry  and  there  has  been  a 
general  ciiase.  'I'he  eircde  of  the  lod<;i'S  has  hi'en  al- 
nu)st  deserted  durinij  the  early  ))art  of  the  day,  for  men 
and  women  uVikv  have  been  olT  to  the  Inmt,  tlie  men 
to  do  the  killing  and  the  women  to  bring  the  meat  and 
hides  to  camp.  'I'he  last  of  these  are  now  returning 
in  little  groups,  and  almost  every  one  is  perelied  on 
top(»f  the  load  of  dripping  meat  borne  by  the  horse  slie 
rides,  and  leading  one  or  two  })ack  horses  still  more 
lieavily  laden. 

All  through  the  day  more  or  less  feasting  has  been 
going  on,  but  this  takes  place  chielly  toward  evetung. 
One  who  desires  to  entertain  his  friends  has  directed 
his  wife  to  prepare  the  food  for  his  guests,  and  when 
all  is  ready  either  sends  a  messenger  about  through  the 
cam})  to  invite  them,  or  has  him  loudly  shout  out  their 
names  from  his  own  lodge  door.  JJiit  little  time  elapses 
before  the  guests  begin  to  arrive,  and  one  by  one  to 
enter  the  lodge.     Each  is  welcomed  by  the  usual  salu- 


10 


TIIK  STURY   OF  THE   INDIAN. 


tiition  Jiml  liis  scut  i.s  iiidicjitecl  to  him,  the  more  im- 
})ort;int  men  bein^j^  seated  fiirtliest  buck  in  the  \u{]y^o 
uiid  nearest  to  the  host's  left  liand.  After  a  prayer  and 
the  sacrifiec  of  a  portion  of  the  fo(jd,  the  eating  begins 
witliout  mneh  waste  of  words.  Tiie  portion  set  before 
caeh  man  is  all  he  is  to  receive,  he  will  not  be  helped 
a  second  time.  Among  some  tribes  it  is  not  good  man- 
ners for  a  gnest  to  leave  any  food  on  the  dish  set  be- 
fore him,  but  among  others,  if  the  man  does  not  care 
to  eat  it  all,  he  may  carry  away  with  him  that  which  is 
left.  Usually  the  host  does  not  eat  with  his  guests. 
While  they  are  disposing  of  their  food,  he  is  cutting  up 
and  mixing  the  tol)acco  for  the  smokes  which  are  to 
follow.  As  the  eating  draws  to  a  close,  conversation 
begins,  and  at  length  the  host,  having  fdled  the  l)ipe, 
passes  it  to  a  son  or  a  servant  on  his  right,  who  lights 
and  then  returns  it.  The  host  makes  the  ceremonial 
smokes — to  the  sky,  to  tlie  earth,  and  to  the  four  car- 
diiud  points — })rays  and  then  hands  the  stem  to  his 
left  hand  neighbor,  who,  after  smoking  and  praying, 
passes  it  to  the  man  next  him,  and  so  it  goes  from  hand 
to  hand  round  the  circle.  It  is  during  this  smoking 
tliat  the  formal  speech-making — if  there  is  any — takes 
place.  The  subjects  touched  on  are  as  various  as  the 
speakers,  and  it  is  noticeable  that  each  one  is  listened 
to  with  patience  and  courtesy,  jind  is  neyer  interrupted. 
lie  finishes  what  he  has  to  say  before  another  man  be- 
gins  to  speak.  About  a  lodge  where  a  feast  is  going 
on,  a  number  of  uninvited  people  gather  to  listen  to 
these  speeches,  and  now — for  it  is  summer  and  the 
lodge  skins  are  raised  for  air — such  listeners  sitting 
about  on  the  ground  are  in  full  view  of  the  feasters. 
No  one  recognises  any  impropriety  in  such  an  outside 
gathering.    If  the  number  of  guests  at  a  feast  be  small, 


•i 


§-1 


HIS   HOME. 


11 


all  the  men  sit  at  the  right  of  the  door — on  the  host's 
left — and  the  family,  the  women  and  children,  are  on 
the  left  of  the  door,  in  that  i)la('e  in  the  lodge  which 
belongs  to  them  ;  but  if  tl. :■  number  of  guests  is  large, 
the  fauiilv  moves  out  of  the  lodge  for  the  time  bein<r. 

As  twilight  falls  the  herds  of  horses  from  the  blulfs 
and  the  u})i)er  prairie  con^e  trooping  close  to  the  camp, 
driven  by  the  small  boys  and  young  men  whose  duty 
it  is  to  attend  to  this.  The  most  valuable,  the  swift- 
est, are  tied  to  pins  driven  in  the  grouiul  close  to  the 
lodge  door,  aiul  the  others  are  allowed  to  go  free  and 
soon  work  back  to  the  hills  near  at  hand.  A  man  who 
has  one  or  more  running  horses  that  he  greatly  values, 
perha})s  conlines  them  in  a  tight  pen  of  logs  and  poles, 
lashed  together  with  thongs  of  rawhide. 

As  darkness  settles  down  over  the  camp,  the  noise 
iucreases.  The  shrill  laughter  of  the  women  is  heard 
from  every  side,  pailly  drowned  now  and  then  by  the 
ever-recurring  feast  shout.  From  ditYerent  quarters 
co/nes  the  sound  of  drumming  and  singing,  here  from 
a  lodge  where  some  musicians  are  beating  on  a  par- 
fleclie  and  singing  for  a  dance,  there  wliere  a  doctor  is 
singing  and  drumming  over  a  sick  child.  Boys  and 
young  men  are  racing  about  among  the  lodges,  chasing 
each  other,  wrestling,  and  yelling.  In  front  of  some 
lodge  in  the  full  light  of  the  lire  which  streams  from 
the  open  doorway,  stand  two  forms  wrapped  in  a  single 
robe — two  lovers,  whispering  to  each  other  their  affec- 
tion and  their  hopes.  Dogs  bark,  liorses  whinny,  peo- 
ple call  to  each  other  from  different  parts  of  the  camp. 
The  fires  shine  tlirough  lodge  skins  and  showers  of 
sparks  float  through  the  smokelioles.  As  the  night 
wears  on  the  noises  become  less.  One  by  one  the  fires 
go  out  and  the  lodges  grow  dark.     From  those  where 


12 


THE  STOUY  OF   THE   INDIAN. 


!"i 


I'l 


diinoiiig  is  ff(nng  on  or  a  party  of  gamblers  arc  pliiying 
tlio  noiso  and  light  still  conic,  but  at  last  even  thci^G 
signs  of  life  disa})pear,  the  men  disperse,  and  the  si- 
lence of  the  canii)  is  broken  onlv  bv  the  occasional 
stamp  of  an  uneasy  hoof  or  the  sharp  bark  of  a  wake- 
ful dog. 

No  incident  mars  the  fjuiet  of  the  night.  The 
moon  rises  and  under  its  rays  the  aspect  of  the  circle 
is  changed.  All  the  camp  is  flooded  with  the  clear 
light,  interru})ted  only  where  the  lodges  cast  their  long 
shadows,  or  the  ground  is  marked  witli  slender  lines 
fallen  from  the  cirying  scaffolds,  or  from  the  tripods 
which  sujiport  the  arms  or  the  medicine  buiulles.  Be- 
fore each  lodge  stand  one  or  two  horses,  visible  now 
only  as  dusky  shapes,  silent  and  motionless.  The  bril- 
liant light  of  the  moon,  whicli  shows  so  clearly  objects 
near  at  hand,  makes  those  a  little  further  off  vague  and 
indistinct,  as  if  seen  through  a  mist,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance the  lodges  of  the  circle  fade  out  of  sight. 

Close  at  hand  is  a  lodge  larger  than  those  near  to 
it,  and  shining  white  and  new  in  the  moonlight.  On 
the  cow  skins  are  drawn  many  pictures  which  tell  the 
history  of  its  owner,  and  before  the  door  are  tied  four 
horses,  his  swiftest  and  best.  This  is  the  lodge  of 
Three  Suns,  the  chief,  and  on  either  side  of  it,  for 
some  distance  around  the  circle,  stand  those  of  his 
immediate  following,  who  are  also  his  kinsmen. 

The  night  wears  on,  and  as  the  day  approaches  the 
first  faint  sounds  of  life  begin  to  be  heard.  Now  and 
then  faintly  upon  the  listening  car  falls  the  distant 
whistle  of  the  wild  ducks'  wings  as  a  flock  of  birds 
start  on  their  early  morning  flight  up  the  stream. 
From  a  liill  near  the  camp  come  the  sharp  barks  and 
dolorous  wails  of  the  coyotes,  answered  from  different 


MIS   IIOMK. 


ja 


jtoints  ill  tlio  camp  by  the  voices  of  liulf  a  dozen  ulert 
(logs.  Tiie  tied  horses,  wliicli  luive  been  lying:  down, 
rise  to  their  feet  and  shake  themselves,  and  tiie  low 
whinny  of  a  mare  is  responded  to  by  a  shrill  call  fi-oni 
file  little  colt  near  by. 

Jn  Three  Suns'  lodge  all  is  quiet  as  yet;  only  the 
heavy  regular  breathing  of  the  sleepers  ranged  about 
the  walls  shows  that  there  is  life  there.  Here  and 
there,  through  some  crevice  between  the  lodge  skins, 
a  liny  thread  of  moonlight  pierces  the  gloom,  render- 
ing the  blackness  within  more  intense.  Only  above 
through  the  wide  smoke-hole  is  there  any  suggestion 
of  light,  where  the  sinking  moon  still  illuminates  one 
of  the  ears,  and  below,  in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  a 
dim  circle  of  white  ashes  tells  where  the  daily  fire 
burns. 

As  the  night  grows  older  and  the  mooTi  sets  and 
the  eastern  sky  begins  to  pale,  there  is  movement  in 
the  lodge,  a  restless  turning  in  the  side  Avhere  the 
women  sleep,  and  the  querulous  voice  of  a  disturbed 
child  is  heard.  One  of  the  women  throws  aside  her 
robe,  and,  rising,  steps  to  the  door  and  looks  out; 
then,  turning,  she  takes  from  under  one  of  the  beds 
some  tinder,  dried  grass,  and  slivers  of  dry  wood  pre- 
pared the  night  before.  With  a  stick  she  rakes  aside 
the  ashes,  looking  for  a  live  coal,  but,  failing  to  find 
one,  uses  her  flint  and  steel,  and  strikes  a  shower  of 
sparks  which  kindle  the  dry  fungus.  The  punk  is 
placed  in  the  dried  grass,  a  little  blowing  starts  a 
llame,  and  soon  the  lodge  is  brightened  by  a  flickering 
fire,  and  sparks  begin  to  fly  out  of  the  smokehole. 
By  this  time  two  other  women  have  risen  from  their 
couches,  and  while  one  looks  after  the  awakening 
children,  the  other  goes  down  to  the  stream  for  water. 


^ 


u 


THE  STUIIV   OF   TlIK   INDIAN. 


In  tlic  gray  liglit,  whicli,  constantly  growiiiLij 
brighter,  now  sliows  the  whole  caiii}),  pillars  of  bine 
smoke  rise  from  every  lodge  straight  n^jwanl  through 
the  still  cool  air.  Many  women  are  hurrying  to  the 
stream  for  water;  young  men,  elose  wra])pe(l  in  their 
robes,  are  loosening  the  horses  whieh  have  been  tied 
up  during  the  night,  and  they  walk  briskly  olT  towar^l 
the  hills.  There  is  more  or  less  noise  and  bustle — 
the  chattering  of  women  ;  the  shrill  calls  of  colts  that 
have  lost  their  mothers;  the  yell  of  pain  from  some 
dog  that  during  the  night  has  crept  into  a  lodge  to 
sleep  warm  with  the  children  and  is  now  discovered 
and  driven  out  with  blows.  All  these  are  the  sounds 
of  the  awakening  day. 

The  tops  of  the  blulVs  along  the  river  are  just  be- 
ginning to  be  touched  with  yellow  light  as  the  door  of 
'J'hree  Suns'  lodge  is  pushed  aside,  and  the  chief  him- 
self comes  out.  His  robe  hides  all  his  person  but  the 
head  and  the  naked  feet,  llis  face  is  kindlv  and  diff- 
iiitied,and  he  talks  pleasantly  to  the  little  boy  of  three 
or  four  years  whom  he  carries  in  his  arms  and  whose 
head  shows  above  the  robe  beside  his  father's.  Dart- 
ing about,  before  and  behind  or  by  the  side  of  the 
father,  is  another  son,  a  lad  of  twelve,  naked  as  at 
birth,  and  holding  in  his  hand  a  bow  and  several 
arrows,  which  as  he  races  along  lie  discharges  at  vari- 
ous marks  that  present  themselves — the  blackbirds 
swinging  from  the  tops  of  the  sage  brush,  the  ground 
squirrels  which  scuttle  from  under  the  tufts  of  grass, 
or  even  the  stones  which  lie  on  the  prairie. 

From  other  lodges  come  other  men  and  boys,  all 
like  Three  Suns  and  his  children,  walking  toward 
the  river.  When  it  is  reached  they  drop  their  robes, 
and  all  plunge  in,  the  fathers  taking  even  the  smallest 


HIS   JIOMK. 


i:> 


t'liildreii  and  dipping  them  benoatli  the  wjitor,  from 
Mhich  they  cniorgo  squirming  and  kicking  but  silent. 
Tlio  older  boys  dash  into  the  water,  and  are  riotously 
si)lashing  about,  shouting,  and  diving.  Soon  all  again 
have  sought  the  bank,  and  the  men,  donning  their 
robes,  return  to  the  lodges.  Jlere  the  pots  have  been 
boiling  for  some  time,  and  when  Three  Suns  has  put 
on  his  leggings  and  moccasins,  combed  out  liis  long 
hair,  and  again  belted  his  robe  about  him,  his  first 
wife  sets  before  him  a  horn  jilatter,  on  which  are 
some  choice  pieces  of  buifalo  meat.  Then  the  chil- 
dren are  served,  and  the  women  help  themselves;  and 
when  all  have  eaten,  the  men  start  olf  to  hunt,  the 
women  set  about  their  daily  work  in  the  camp,  and 
the  children  disperse  to  their  play. 

So  goes  the  round  of  Indian  life.     Another  day 
has  begun. 


CHAPTER  II. 


» 


IlECUKATTONS. 

It  is  a  oloar,  ])riglit  nioriiin<;.  The  horizon's  out- 
line is  sliarply  defined  against  tiie  sky's  unbroken  bhie, 
and  the  sliadows  are  growing  shorter  as  the  sun  elinibs 
higlier.  Tlie  first  meal  has  been  eaten.  Tlie  men  have 
gone  about  tlieir  daily  pursuits,  and  now  only  the  last 
of  the  hunting  jiarties  nuiy  yet  be  seen,  some  riding 
ol!  down  the  vallev  and  others  climbing  tlie  blulTs. 
Many  men  are  in  the  camp,  because  the  buffalo  are  not 
near  by  ;  but  other  animals  which  people  eat,  and 
whose  skins  are  good  for  clothing,  are  j)lenty  not  far 
away — antelope  on  the  prairies,  deer  and  elk  in  the 
wooded  ravines  and  river  bottoms,  and  sheep  ou  the 
buttes  and  rough  bad  lands. 

In  the  camp  the  daily  life  goes  on.  White-haired 
old  men,  holding  their  robes  as  close  about  them  as  if 
it  were  winter,  crouch,  two  or  three  together,  by  the 
lodges,  and  hold  slow-voiced  converse  with  one  an- 
other; young  men  are  sitting  in  the  bright  sun  braid- 
ing their  hair  and  painting  their  faces ;  women  are 
tanning  hides,  or  making  dried  meat,  or  pounding 
pemmican.  Close  by  some  of  the  old  men,  sit  groups 
of  boys,  eagerly  listening  to  the  talk  ;  and  most  of  the 
women  have — on  their  backs  or  hung  up  near  to  them 
— stolid  fat  brown  babies.     Dogs  lie  curled  up  in  the 

IG 


m 


KECUKATIOXS. 


17 


sun,  iiiul  liorsos  stimd  before  tlio  lodges  witli  heuda 
held  low  and  droo])iiig  ears. 

Of  the  home-stay iiig  folk  the  children  form  the 
most  active  and  most  noisy  groups.  They  are  every- 
wliere,  and  the  sound  of  their  voices  is  lieard  contin- 
ually, 'i'hey  run,  play,  shout,  and  etlervcsce  with  life 
and  s[)irits,  like  youth  the  world  over. 

Like  other  young  animals,  these  children  delight 
to  do  the  thiiiirs  which  occupy  their  elders.  So  vou 
Avill  see  each  one  engaged  in  some  task  or  sport  "which 
represents  the  pursuits  of  the  adidts.  All  the  older 
boys  are  armed  with  bows  and  headless  arrows,  and 
Ijractice  continually  shooting  at  a  mark  or  for  dis- 
tance, or  sending  the  arrow  almost  vertically  into  the 
air  in  the  elTort  to  make  it  fall  at  some  particidar 
]M)int.  They  hunt  ground  squirrels,  blackbirds,  aiul 
even  prairie  chickens  and  hares,  and,  during  the  sea- 
sou  of  migration,  lie  in  wait  by  the  streams  and  pools 
for  ducks  and  geese.  Some  who  have  not  yet  reached 
the  age  at  which  they  can  eifectively  use  the  bow,  drag 
about  after  them  ropes  or  strings,  and  try  to  lasso  each 
other  or  the  unlucky  dogs,  trotting  here  and  there 
among  the  lodges.  A  set  younger  still  give  themselves 
up  to  the  delights  of  tormenting  the  dogs,  and  armed 
with  pieces  of  Avood  as  heavy  as  they  can  wield,  ttike 
l)leasure  in  stealing  np  to  a  dog  slumbering  in  the 
shade  and  jiounding  the  poor  brute,  which  yells  dis- 
mally, and  at  once  betakes  himself  to  some  more  se- 
cure resting  place. 

Others  of  the  young  braves  are  engaged  in  sham  bat- 
tles. Small  parties  conceal  themselves  beliind  neigh- 
bouring lodges  and  conduct  a  mimic  fight  much  after 
the  manner  of  men.  As  arrows,  even  though  head- 
less, would  be  dangerous  in  this  jDretendcd  warfare, 


18 


TlIK  SToIiV   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


tilt'  ()])])()siii^  forces  iirc  jirmcd  witli  linibiT  switches, 
uiul  carry  under  the  left  arni  a  hmip  of  wet  clav.  A 
bit  of  chiy  is  pressed  on  tlie  small  end  of  the  switcii 
and  thrown  as  a  missile,  just  as  the  white  boy  throws 
a  ^H'een  ai)plo  with  like  ini])lement.  When  the  lisj^ht 
begins,  a  member  of  one  party  sallies  out  from  be- 
hind his  shelter  and  runs  toward  the  enemy,  throw- 
ing his  mud  balls  at  those  who  are  jjceping  out  at  him. 
Before  he  has  advanced  very  far  two  of  the  op})osing 
party  rush  out  and  attack  him.  ][e  retreats,  is  re- 
enforced  by  others  from  his  own  side  and  drives  back 
the  enemy,  wlio  in  turn  are  strengthened  from  their 
own  party.  There  are  alarums  and  excursions,  yells  of 
defiance,  cries  of  terror,  shouts  of  fury  and  excitement 
from  all  the  small  warriors,  a  plentiful  shower  of  mud 
balls,  and  linally  each  party  retreats  to  shelter  for  rest 
and  the  renewing  of  ammunition.  Such  battles  are 
interesting  to  watch  between  parties  of  footmen,  but 
when  two  or  three  combatants  on  liorseback  are  set 
upon  by  a  number  unmounted,  the  excitement  is  much 
greater.  The  mounted  men  charge  upon  the  footmen, 
who  fly  to  their  shelter,  throwing  back  as  they  run  a 
cloud  of  mud  balls,  before  which  the  cavalry  retreat 
to  a  safe  distance.  Then  a  few  of  the  footmen  steal 
from  their  cover,  trying  to  get  within  range,  yet  not 
venturing  so  far  that  they  will  be  overtaken  in  the 
event  of  a  charge.  Very  likely  the  mounted  forces 
retire  to  decoy  their  assailants  still  further  away;  but 
at  length  they  charge,  then  there  is  a  helter-skelter  re- 
treat, re-enforcements  rush  forth,  and  the  yelling  and 
excitement  are  worthy  of  a  real  battle.  So  the  fight 
•will  go  on  for  half  a  day,  one  of  either  party  now  and 
then  having  a  coup  counted  on  him  or  being  captured. 
From  the  river  which  runs  by  the  camp  comes  a 


I 


^ 


KKCHKATIONS. 


11) 


babble  of  t'liildi.slj  voict'S,  int('rni[)t('(l  now  and  tlii'ii 
by  jticrfiii;,'  yells  and  sounds  of  splasliin;,'  in  tliu  water. 
A  gi'oiii)  of  boys  a'/e  divin^^  s\viiMniin;^%  and  wivstlini,' 
in  a  pool,  as  nimble  and  as  nircii  at  lionie  in  tbe  water 
as  so  many  lislies ;  and  near  by  on  llie  bank  two  or 
three  lads,  who  have  come  from  the  watei',  are  sitting 
naked  in  the  sun,  slowlv  and  laboriously  fashionini; 
itLTures  (»f  ehiy,  which  they  carefully  support  a<,''ainst 
the  bank  to  dry.  'i'he  ima;i:es  represent  horses,  dogs, 
bulValo,  and  men,  and  though  rude  and  often  gro- 
tesque, may  sometimes  be  recognised.  To  make  them 
is  a  favourite  amusement  of  tbe  children. 

If  the  boy  at  bis  })lay  rebearscs  tbe  warlike  pursuits 
of  the  years  to  come,  not  less  do  the  little  girls  sbare 
the  cares  and  duties  of  womaidiood.  Close  by  a  lodge 
several  are  at  play  tending  their  dolls.  I'he  largest, 
who  may  be  ten  years  old,  is  fasbioiung  a  p;  r  of  tiny 
moccasins  from  some  bits  of  dressed  antelope  skin. 
These  may  be  for  the  baby  sbe  carries  on  ber  back — 
a  jnippy — whose  sharp  eager  eyes,  excited  yelps,  and 
occasional  inelTectual  struggles  sbow  that  be  is  not 
altogetber  contented  witb  bis  jdaee  upon  tbe  cbiUrs 
shoulders.  At  eacb  eltort  ber  ])lay  baby  nuikcs  to  get 
free,  the  girl  bitcbes  up  ber  blaid<et  and  draws  it  closer 
about  ber,  speaking  sbari)ly  to  him  as  a  woman  would 
speak  to  an  unruly  child.  Other  little  girls  ai'c  busy 
with  dolls  made  of  rolls  of  buckskin,  willi  a  bead 
rudely  painted  in  black  on  one  end.  fSome  of  them 
are  lashed  to  boards  in  tbe  usual  way,  but  one  bas 
been  freed  from  its  confinement  and  is  beld  in  tbe 
arms.  This  one  bas,  tied  to  the  end  of  its  buckskin 
arm,  a  bit  of  dried  meat,  wliicli  its  nurse  holds  to  its 
iiKMitli  from  time  to  time,  as  if  to  keep  it  quiet.  'J'hc 
dolls  are  nursed  and  looked  after  much  as  a  parent 


rr 


I 


2) 


TlIK  STOKV   OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


would  tri'iit  u  l)al)y.  Tlie  little  fjirls  play  at  fci'iliii^' 
tiiciu,  Hiii<;-  to  tiu-ni  the  sanio  i)laintivc',  inoiiotoiioii.s 
SOUL'S  their  own  mothers  have  used  to  hush  them  to 
sleep,  take  them  down  to  the  stream  to  wash  them, 
aud  sew  for  them  tinv  moccasins  and  other  clothiu''. 

On  the  stream  bank  not  far  from  the  camp  a  group 
of  girls  are  busy  about  two  tiny  lodges,  fitted  up  with 
small  lodge  i)oles,  and  with  ail  <'"  furniture  of  a  real 
loilgo.  'i'hey  lire  playing  at  keeping  house.  I*>y  and 
by  they  will  move  their  camj).  Catching  some  of  the 
old,  steady  dogs,  and  harnessing  them  to  the  travois, 
they  will  pack  up  their  camp,  set  out  on  the  march, 
and  then  going  a  short  distance,  put  up  the  lodges 
again,  build  their  fhvs  and  go  to  cooking,  pounding 
berries,  dressing  hides,  and  doing  all  the  things  that 
occupy  their  mothers  in  the  daily  life  of  the  camp. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  young  i)en])lc  are  en- 
gaged in  dilTerent  games  and  contests  of  skill.  Young 
girls  and  women,  tifteen  or  twenty  of  them,  arc  run- 
ning hither  and  thither  after  a  large  ball  of  buckskin, 
stull'ed  with  antelope  or  bulTalo  hair.  This  is  driven 
along  the  ground  befoi'c  the  players  with  their  feet, 
each  one  trying  to  retain  the  ball  as  long  as  jiossible. 
This  is  a  girl's  game,  but  some  of  the  young  married 
women  of  the  camp  are  taking  part  in  it,  as  well  as 
two  or  three  half-grown  lads,  who  have  not  yet  reached 
the  age  for  hunting  or  going  to  war,  or  at  which  they 
feel  it  necessary  to  appear  dignified.  All  the  players 
take  the  greatest  interest  in  the  game,  which  is  really 
a  great  romp,  and  tliey  shout,  scream,  laugh,  run,  and 
push  each  other  about,  like  the  children  that  they  are. 

Other  3'Oung  people  are  practising  at  throwing  cer- 
tain special  toys  made  for  this  purpose.  One  of  these 
is  a  small  curved  piece  of  bone  four  inches  in  length, 


i 


KKCREATIONS. 


IM 


'd 

1 

as 

■«-• 

I'd 

t'y 

'I'S 

Uv 

'iv 

nd 

formed  of  u  si'ction  of  u  l)ii(Tal()'s  rih.  One  end  is 
sharpened  and  tii>i»e(l  witli  iiorii,  and  in  eltlier  niar^dn 
of  the  rib  near  the  otiier  end,  lioles  are  drilled  diagon- 
ally, in  winch  the  (|nills  of  stont  feathers  are  inserted, 
so  that  the  toy  will  lly  evenly.  The  contestants  east 
these  implements,  l»y  an  nndi'rhand  tiirow,  liori/ontally 
over  a  llat  snrfaee,  so  that  the  bone  shall  strike  on  its 
convex  side  and  ricochet  alon*,^  it.  'J'hese  toys  are  nsed 
chielly  over  the  ice  in  winter,  and  an  expert  thrower 
can  send  one  a  surprisingly  long  way.  Other  boys  and 
girls  throw  long  slender  springy  sticks,  tipped  with 
i)iilTalo  horn.  U'hesu  arc  thrown  forward  bv  one  end, 
tiiridng  over  and  over  in  the  air,  and  when  the  tip 
strikes  the  ground  the  stick  bounds  up,  turns  over  sev- 
eral times,  again  st likes  on  the  point  and  bounds  into 
the  air,  thus  advancing  by  leaps  for  a  h)ng  distance. 

Xo  game  i)layed  l)y  men  and  boys  is  so  popuhir  as 
the  stick  or  ring  game.  Little  children  begin  to  play 
it  as  soon  as  they  can  run  easily,  well-grown  boys  prac- 
tice it  constantly,  and  young  men  spend  much  of  their 
time  in  camp  racing  over  the  course,  wininng  and  los- 
ing horses,  arms,  and  clothing  at  the  game.  The  stick 
game  varies  in  some  of  its  details  with  ditTerent  tribes, 
hut  its  essential  features  are  evervwhere  the  same.  It 
is  played  with  a  ring  or  wheel  of  rawhide,  usually 
wrapped  or  cross  barred  with  rawhide  strings  to  give  it 
stillness,  and  variously  adorned  with  beads  and  little 
tags,  each  of  which  has  some  special  meaning.  Each 
l)layer  is  armed  with  a  straight,  slender,  pointed  stick, 
five  feet  long,  which  is  thrown  at  the  ring  as  it  is  rolled 
along  the  ground,  the  object  being  to  send  the  stick 
through  the  ring.  The  sticks  are  some  times  simple, 
or  in  tribes  where  the  game  has  reached  a  high  degree 
of  development  and  become  more  complex,  cross  bars, 


TT 


00 


TIIK  ST(»liV  OF  TIIK   IN'DIAN'. 


I 


I 


Iiooks,  and  oilier  projections  are  la>lie(l  to  llieiu. 
When  the  riii^^  is  rolled  alon<;  the  ;,M"oiiiid  the  jilayers 
run  after  it  and  dart  their  sticks  at  it.  The  relation 
of  the  rin^' to  some  part  of  the  stick  determines  tho 
nnmher  of  points  won  by  the  thrower. 

in  every eamp  where  a  huiir  stav  is  made  the  vouiiir 
men,  before  many  days  iiave  jiasscd,  clcai'  away  the 
grass,  stones,  and  inc(|nalities  from  a  piece  of  level 
gronnd,  makinjj:  a  smooth  course  (»ver  which  the  v'xw^ 
is  to  be  rolU'd,  and  at  this  course,  the  men  (d'  th(! 
camp,  yonn<;  and  old,  ^^'lther  daily  to  play  ami  to  look 
at  the  ^amc  and  pimble  on  it.  I{an<(ed  alon^  thi! 
course  stand  tho  spectators,  of  both  sexes,  wrapped  in 
their  robes.  Some  are  meivly  oidookers,  too  old  uv 
too  lazy  to  take  part  in  the  <,'amo.  Others  await  their 
turn.  A  few  women,  interested  in  the  success  of  lover 
or  newly  mariied  husband,  stand  among  the  nu-n  iind 
eagerly  watch  the  jday.  A  very  large  pi-oj)oitio!i  of 
the  men  in  the  camp  are  now,  or  have  been,  ])layers  of 
tho  game,  and  the  course  is  the  gathering  })lace  during 
tho  day  for  all  tho  idle  men  in  the  camp.  It  is  also 
tho  great  betting  ground,  for  not  oidy  do  the  ])layers 
contest  for  a  stake,  but  the  sjieetators  lay  wagers  on 
their  favourites,  losing  and  wininng  large  amounts  of 
property  on  a  single  game. 

These  games  alTord  suj)erb  exliibitions  of  speed 
and  skill.  Stripped  to  breech-cU)ut  and  moccasins,  tho 
two  contestants,  holding  tlieir  sticks  in  their  hands, 
bend  forward,  straining  like  greyhounds  in  tho  sli])s, 
eager  to  start  on  tlio  conrse.  Their  naked  bodies,  su- 
perbly developed,  are  lithe  and  sinewy  rather  than 
muscular,  but  M'onderfully  tongh  and  enduring,  for 
they  are  kept  at  tho  very  highest  pitch  of  physical 
training  by  their  simple  wholesome  food  and  by  the 


UHCUKATIoNS. 


23 


constant  exercise  tluit  tlicy  an;  lakiii.!,'  -  the  lalMUir  (»f 
litinliii^',  the  \tn\<i  foot  jonrtieys  to  war,  and  siieli  sport.s 
as  tlicy  are  now  indnl^'in;^'  in.  I»rown  skins  ri'llecit  tlio 
li'ilit,  Mack  liair  blows  out  in  llie  breeze,  dark  vyvt^  roll 
as  tliev  watch  each  other,  and  Ion;;  jin;;ers  nervously 
clasp  and  unclasp,  littinu;  theuisidves  to  the  lln^rcr 
holds  on  the  sticks  which  they  ,i,n'asp.  One  of  the  ]iaii' 
of  players  holds  his  stick  in  his  left  hand,  pre})ared  to 
roll  the  rin;;  with  his  ri;jjht.  \\  lien  both  are  ready  and 
all  the  bets  have  bcH-n  made,  he  who  holds  the  rin^' 
^ivcs  it  a  stron;;  pitch  forward  and  both  dash  after  it, 
as  it  rolls  along  the  course.  IJaciuL,'  along  on  Hying 
moccasins  they  soon  ov«'rtake  it,  and  as  its  speed  slack- 
ens, thev  dart  tiieir  stiidv  at  it  bv  a  curious  umlerhaml 
throw,  endeavouring  to  transfix  it.  'J'his  they  seldom 
Kiuiceed  in  doing,  but  usuallv  oiu;  or  both  sticks  touch 
the  rijig  and  knock  it  down,  and  pf»ints  are  counted  ])y 
the  distance  of  the  ring  from  the  dilTercnt  parts  of  the 
stick. 

it  is  unusual  for  a  player  to  send  his  stick  through 
the  ring,  but  if  this  is  accomplished  lie  has  won  the 
game.  Much  more  often  a  number  of  courses  have  to 
be  run  before  the  issue  is  decided,  for,  as  the  ])oints 
(•btained  by  each  i)layer  an^  always  deducted  from  the 
score  of  liis  oi)])onent,  one  of  the  ])layers  is  always 
nothing.  The  contestaiits  take  turns  in  rolling  Iho 
ring,  so  that  each  alternately  sulTers  a  slight  delay  in 
starting  and  the  inconvenience  of  having  to  change 
Ills  stick  from  one  liand  to  the  otlier. 

In  its  highest  development  the  game  is  complicated 
and  affords  much  opportuiuty  for  dispute  and  wran- 
gling, "When  the  players  cannot  decide  the  questions 
involved  to  the  satisfaction  of  both,  thev  call  one  of 
the  spectators  to  act  as  umpire  and  give  a  decision, 


24 


TUK  STORY   OF  TIIF.   INDIAX. 


it 


I     ' 


wliicli  is  always  accepted  without  (Iciniir  as  final. 
Amorg  tho  men  no  sport  of  the  camp  attracts  so  much 
attention  antl  intiTcst  as  the  stick  game,  yet  tho 
Avomcn  do  not  care  es})ecially  for  it,  for  they  have 
amusements  of  their  own. 

As  the  sun  gi'ts  low  in  tho  west  many  of  the 
women  put  aside  tlu'ir  daily  tasks  and  devote  a  little 
time  to  recreation — gossi})  and  gamhling.  (lathered 
in  groups  in  the  shade  of  the  lodges,  with  hahies  on 
their  backs  or  beside  them  on  the  ground,  they  laugh 
and  chatter,  giving  each  other  the  news  of  their  fami- 
lies and  of  the  camp  in  a  manner  quite  worthy  of  ii 
civilized  drawing  room.  .Many  of  them  play  the  seed 
game,  the  two  i)arties  sitting  in  line  facing  each  other, 
each  woman  having  by  her  side  the  little  }>ilo  of  prop- 
erty she  intends  to  wager — some  bits  of  red  cloth,  a 
few  strings  of  beads,  some  tobacco,  and  other  things 
that  people  nse.  These  are  not  })ut  up  as  stakes,  but 
each  player's  bet  is  re])rescnted  by  a  stick  i)ut  \\[) 
against  a  similar  stick  wagered  by  her  o])ponent.  The 
game  is  not  unlike  throwing  dice.  Five  plum  stones, 
blackened  and  then  variously  marked  on  one  side,  are 
placed  on  a  flat  wicker  basket  about  the  size  and 
shape  of  a  tea  plate,  and  by  a  quick  jerk  are  thrown 
into  the  air  and  then  caught  in  tho  basket  as  they 
come  down.  'I'he  marks  on  the  upper  surface  of  the 
stones  so  caught  indicate  the  vabio  of  the  throw,  and 
the  points  gained  or  lost  by  the  line  of  women  on  the 
side  of  the  manipulator  of  the  basket.  ^luch  mirth 
accompanies  this  game,  and  the  talking  and  laughter 
are  incessant.  The  winners  chaff  their  opponents, 
and  these  reply  to  their  jeers  with  quick  jest  and 
repartee. 

In  the  so-ial  dances,  which  are  usually  given  at 


lit 


[s 


'i 


T'uwiR'c  W'oiiiaii  and  Cliild. 


•f:       '< 


RECREATIONS. 


25 


night,  women  as  well  as  men  take  part.  The  dances 
are  held  in  a  largo  lodge,  and  all  the  dancers  and 
many  onlookers  gather  there  soon  after  the  evening 
meal  is  eaten,  and  long  before  the  dance  begins. 
Men  and  women  alike  have  pre})ared  themselves  for 
the  festivities.  The  hair  is  neatly  combed,  newly 
braided,  and  shining;  line  clothing  is  worn  with  nniny 
ornaments,  and  the  faces  gleam  with  fresh  red  paint. 
The  women  sit  together  on  one  side  of  the  lodge  and 
the  men  on  the  other.  Long  before  the  dancers  step 
on  to  the  lloor  the  singers — chosen  for  their  skill — 
start  the  air,  which  is  nsnallv  in  a  minor  kev,  and 
keep  time  to  the  song  by  ponnding  on  a  drum  or  on  a 
partleche  which  lies  on  the  ground.  To  an  unac- 
customed ear  many  of  the  dance  songs  sound  monot- 
onous enough,  yet  often  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
melody  in  them.  Frequently  a  single  dancer,  man  or 
woman,  will  rise  and  dance  for  a  long  time  alone, 
stamping  about  with  knees  half  bent ;  after  a  Avhile 
another  joins  in  and  then  another,  until  half  a  dozen 
may  be  dancing  at  the  same  time.  As  these  retire 
and  sit  down  to  rest,  others  take  their  place.  Often  a 
woman  gets  np  and  dances  for  a  time  alone,  and  then 
dancing  before  a  particular  man,  chooses  him  for  a 
partner,  and  the  two  dance  opposite  one  another  with 
deliberate  steps  for  some  time  and  then  sit  down,  or 
the  woman  may  throw  lier  robe  over  her  partner's 
head  and  kiss  him,  and  then  sit  down,  leaving  him  to 
dance  for  a  time  alone.  This  is  an  expression  of  lik- 
ing for  the  man  and  a  high  compliment  to  him.  In 
other  dances  the  woman  gives  to  the  partner  she  lias 
selected  some  trifling  present,  and  he  is  expected  to 
make  one  to  her  in  return.  Such  dances  are  partici- 
pated in   for  the  most  part  by  young  people.     The 


II 


26 


TIIK  STORY   OF   Till-:   IXDIAX. 


dancers  keep  excellent  time,  and,  while  very  much  in 
earnest  about  the  whole  performance,  seem  f,M'catly  to 
enjoy  themselves. 

Many  of  the  dances  are  })erformed  in  ordinary 
costume,  except  that  both  men  and  womeii  throw  olT 
their  robes  or  blankets  to  give  them  greater  freedom 
and  coolness,  for  dancing  is  hot  work,  and  a  lodge 
crowded  with  people  is  not  the  coolest  place  in  the 
world.  At  special  times,  however,  the  men  dance 
without  any  clothing  except  breech-clouts  and  moc- 
casins and  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  painting  their 
bodies  for  the  occasion.  White  clay  is  a  favourite 
colour  for  legs  and  arms,  and  sometimes  for  the  body ; 
red  is  the  colour  most  used  for  the  face,  and  occa- 
sionallv  green  and  vellow. 

At  times  there  takes  place  a  dance,  which  is  al- 
most wliollv  commercial.  In  the  old  days,  when  the 
tribes  manufactured  their  own  clothing,  arms,  uten- 
sils, and  ornaments,  it  happened  usually  that  each  one 
was  celebrated  for  some  s^^ecial  article  which  it  was 
known  to  make  better  than  other  tribes.  It  might  be 
tiiat  one  tribe  made  handsonu-r  war  ])onnets,  better 
war  shirts,  or  louder  rattles  than  its  neighbours,  and 
occasionally  a  few  men  would  take  a  number  of  these 
desirable  and  high-priced  articles  and  visit  some  neigh- 
bouring tribe  to  barter  their  goods  for  horses  or  other 
property.  Hospitably  received,  they  live  in  the  lodges 
of  principal  men,  and  before  long  give  a  dance— usu- 
ally cue  of  those  peculiar  to  their  own  tribe — in  which 
perhaps  some  of  the  garments  or  ornaments  which 
they  have  to  sell  are  worn  and  so  displayed,  or  if  this 
is  not  done,  the  dance  is  at  least  an  advertisement  of 
their  presence  and  its  purpose. 

Gambling   is  a  universal   amusement   among   In- 


»' 


nECREATIOXS. 


27 


dians,  and  tlicy  bet  on  all  games  of  skill  and  chance. 
The  Indiatis  of  the  Southwest  have  loni;  been  familiar 
with  playing  cards,  and  with  these  play  some  Spanish 
games,  but,  even  at  the  present  day,  they  prefer  to  lay 
wagers  on  their  own  games.  'Vln^y  di'light  in  horse- 
racing  and  foot-racing,  and  hct  heavily  on  these  as 
well  as  on  the  stick  game;  but  perha})s  no  gjimbling 
game  is  so  widespread  and  so  })opular  as  that  known  as 
"  hands."  It  consists  in  guessing  in  which  of  the  two 
luuuls  is  held  a  small  marked  object,  right  or  wrong 
guessing  being  rewarded  or  penalized  by  the  gain  or 
loss  of  points.  The  players  sit  in  lines  facing  each 
other,  each  man  betting  with  the  one  opposite  him. 
The  object  held,  which  is  often  a  small  polished  bone, 
is  intrusted  to  the  best  player  on  one  side,  who  sits 
opjiosite  to  the  best  jilayer  on  the  other.  The  wagei's 
are  laid — after  more  or  less  discussion  and  bargaining 
as  to  the  relative  values  of  things  as  unlike  as  an  otter- 
skin  quiver  on  one  side  and  two  plugs  of  tobacco,  a 
yard  of  cloth,  and  seven  cartridges  on  the  other — and 
the  game  begins  with  a  low  song,  which  soon  increases 
in  volume  and  intensity.  As  the  singers  become  more 
excited,  the  man  who  holds  the  bone  moves  his  hands 
in  time  to  the  song,  brings  them  together,  seems  to 
change  the  bone  rapidly  from  hand  to  hand,  holds 
their  palms  together,  puts  them  behind  his  back  or 
under  his  robe,  swaying  his  body  back  and  forth,  and 
doing  all  he  can  to  mystify  the  player  who  is  about  to 
try  to  choose  the  bone.  The  other  for  a  time  keeps 
his  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  the  liands  of  his  opponent, 
and,  gradually  as  the  song  grows  faster,  bends  for- 
ward, raises  his  right  liand  with  extended  forefinger 
above  his  head,  and  holds  it  there,  and  at  last,  when 
he  is  ready,  wdth  a  swift  motion  brings  it  down  to  a 


! 


!il^ 


1 


28 


THE  STORY   OF   THE    INDIAN. 


liorizoiitiil,  pointing  at  one  of  the  luiiids  Mliieh  \a 
iiistiintly  oj)eiied.  If  it  contains  the  hone,  the  side 
^\•hieh  was  guessing  lias  won,  and  cacli  man  receives  a 
stick  from  the  opposite  phiyer.  Tiie  bone  is  then 
passed  across  to  the  op})Osite  side,  tlie  song  is  re- 
newed, and  the  others  guess.  The  game  olTers  oppor- 
tunities for  clieating,  but  this  scUlom  takes  place.  I 
have  known  of  only  one  case  of  the  kind,  and  in  that 
instance  the  detected  gamblers  were  forced  by  peace- 
ful means  to  return  all  the  property  they  had  won. 
I'his  was  during  the  Crook  campaign  of  18'iG-''77, 
when  the  Cheyenne  and  Pawnee  scouts  who  accom- 
panied tlie  command  gambled  against  each  other.  At 
first  the  luck  of  the  game  varied  in  the  usual  way,  but 
at  last  it  turned  to  the  side  of  the  Cheyennes,  who 
were  occasionally  able  to  guess  which  hand  held  the 
bone  when  the  Pawnees  had  it,  while  the  Pawnees 
never  succeeded  in  guessing  right  when  the  Cheyennes 
had  it. 

This  occurred  so  cojistantly  that  suspicion  was  ex- 
cited and  a  close  watch  was  kept  on  the  Cheyenne 
player.  When  it  was  believed  that  he  had  hidden  the 
bone  in  his  robe,  where  he  could  drop  his  hand  on  it 
in  a  moment,  two  Pawnees  sprang  forward,  and  seizing 
his  two  hands  held  them  up  in  the  air  closed,  in  the 
sight  of  all  the  players.  They  were  opened  and  both 
were  empty.  A  long  wrangle  followed  in  which  the 
Cheyennes  disavowed  the  act  of  their  fellow,  and  at 
length  agreed  to  restore,  and  did  restore,  all  the  horses 
that  they  had  thus  unfairly  won. 

Like  most  games  of  chance  at  which  men  win  or 
lose  property,  this  one  has  a  strong  fascination  for  the 
Indians,  and  men  spend  their  nights  at  play  and  win 
and  lose  heavilv. 


1 


1^ 


. 


RKCREATIOXS. 


29 


On  specitil  onoasioiis,  when  vitsits  ure  beiiif?  paitl  by 
members  of  unother  tribe,  horse  and  foot  raeiiig  take 
})hice.  Eaeh  party  brings  out  some  swift  jiouy  or 
man,  and  bets  on  its  champion  all  they  have.  If  the 
visitors  lose  they  will  very  likely  receive  many  presents 
from  their  hosts,  so  that  th(n'  mav  not  be  obliged  to  go 
home  poor,  but  if  they  win,  they  may  very  likely  carry 
with  them  nearly  all  the  })roperty  of  the  camp,  for  the 
intense  tribal  ])ride  of  the  Jiulian-^his  patriotism — 
leads  him  to  believe  that  the  men,  women,  chiklren, 
and  ponies  of  his  own  tribe  can  do  things  better  than 
any  others,  and  he  will  show  his  faith  in  his  own 
by  wagering  his  last  })ony  and  his  last  blanket  on  its 
performance. 

Such  are  some  of  the  })rinci})al  pastimes  of  the  peo- 
\)\q  during  the  hours  of  a  fair  summer  day.  There  are 
winter  s])orts  in  which  the  chiMren  engage,  sliding 
down  hill  on  sleds  made  of  bulfalo  ribs,  spinning  t()[)S 
on  the  ice,  and  i)laying  half  naked  in  the  snow.  The 
tinv  children  sometimes  find  an  old  bulTalo  bull  wal- 
lowing  through  the  dee})  snow  and  delight  in  running 
up  close  to  it  and  shooting  at  it  their  headless  arrows. 
In  winter  the  men  no  longer  play  at  sticks;  the  women 
do  their  gambling  in  the  lodge.  But  if  food  is  abun- 
dant the  feasting  and  the  dancing  and  the  visiting  go 
on  in  all  weathers. 


I  I 


I 


I 


(CHAPTER   IIT. 


A    MARUIA(iE. 


I>f  the  circle  of  the  lodges  stood  one  that  was  hirire 
and  painted  on  all  its  sides  with  the  story  of  its  own- 
er's deeds.  From  two  of  the  lodge  poles  bulTulo  tails 
swung  in  the  wind,  and  on  a  tripod  near  at  liand  hung 
the  bundles  which  proclaimed  the  owner  of  the  lodge 
to  be  a  medicine  man  and  a  great  warrior.  This  was 
the  home  of  Three  Suns,  the  chief  of  a  gens  of  the 
people.  lie  was  a  great  chief,  brave,  wise,  and  gener- 
ous. In  the  councils  of  the  tribe  he  thought  and 
spoke  for  the  good  of  the  people,  not  for  himself  ;  for 
many  years  he  had  been  a  leader  of  war  parties  and  all 
his  journeys  to  war  had  been  lucky,  for  he  had  struck 
many  of  his  enemies  and  had  taken  many  horses. 
Most  of  these  he  gave  away  to  his  friends  and  rela- 
tions or  to  those  who  were  poor  or  to  comfort  those 
who  had  lost  friends  or  relations  in  war. 

Xot  far  from  the  lodge  of  Three  Suns,  in  the  circle 
of  the  camp,  stood  the  home  of  Buffalo  Iiibs,  himself  a 
chief,  a  brave  warrior,  successful  in  his  expeditions 
against  his  enemies,  rich  from  the  spoils  of  war,  a  man 
of  kindly  heart  and  generous  disposition,  Avell  thought 
of  by  all  the  tribe.  Xow  Buffalo  Ribs  had  a  son,  a 
young  man  of  marriageable  age,  who  as  a  servant  had 
been  off  on  two  or  three  war  parties,  and  had  done 
well.     He   had   taken  some   horses  and  was  a  good 

30 


A    MAliHIACJK. 


31 


liuiitcr.  'riiii  yoiuig  inuii,  whose  luime  wtis  White  An- 
telope, liiid  seen  tlie  oldest  dtiughter  of  Three  Suns, 
and  because  she  wiis  pleusiint  to  look  ut  he  liked  her, 
and  he  wanted  her  for  his  wife.  He  luid  spoken  to 
her  too  ;  in  the  bei^innini;  onlv  lookinii'  at  her  and 
sniilinjj:,  and  afterward  wailing  for  her  outside  her 
father's  lodge  and  talking  to  her — at  lirst  onlv  a  little, 
for  she  was  afraid  and  would  not  wait  to  listen,  but 
afterward,  as  she  got  nsed  to  him,  he  had  talked  to  her 
longer,  so  that  now  the  two  knew  eacli  other  well. 

When  White  Antelope  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
he  wanted  this  girl  for  his  wife,  and  when  he  found 
that  she  liked  him,  he  spoke  to  his  father  about  the 
matter,  telling  what  was  in  his  mind  ;  and  BulTalo 
Itibs  considering  it,  and  remembering  that  Three  Suns' 
family  was  good,  and  that  he  was  a  chief,  loved  by  his 
peoi)le,  and  rich,  and  that  his  wives  were  good  women 
and  kept  the  lodge  well  supplied  with  dressed  skins 
and  good  clothing,  and  that  the  girl  was  modest,  quiet, 
sensible,  and  always  busy,  thought  that  she  would  nud-io 
a  good  wife  for  his  boy.  So,  when  he  had  thought  of 
all  these  things,  he  sent  word  to  his  brothers  and  near- 
est kinsfolk,  asking  them  to  come  to  his  lodge  and  eat 
with  him,  for  he  had  something  to  say  to  them,  lie 
told  his  .wife  to  cook  food,  and  she  took  from  the  par- 
fleches  dried  corn  and  dried  berries  and  dried  meat 
and  backfat,  and  boiled  the  food,  and  before  sunset  all 
was  read  v. 

When  the  invited  relations  had  come  and  all  had 
eaten,  and  the  pipe  had  been  lighted  and  was  passing 
from  hand  to  hand  aronnd  the  circle,  Buffalo  Kibs 
spoke  to  his  relations  and  told  them  what  was  in  his 
mind  and  asked  their  opinion  about  this  marriage, 
whether  it  ought  to  take  place  or  not.     Then  they  be- 


32 


TIIK  STOIIV   OF  TIIR    INDIAN. 


! 


^an  to  s])Oiik,  one  at  a  tliiic,  the  oldest  lirst.  and  soiiio 
.said  one  thiii<jf  and  .souu^  aiiotlicr,  hut  all  s[)()lv(:  ^<Hn[ 
words  about  'IMiree  Suns  and  his  girl,  and  all  thought 
that  it  would  hi'  good  if  thi;  young  rium  could  havi' her 
for  his  wife.  When  all  had  spoken,  Hull'alo  Kihs  hini- 
.self  stood  u[)  and  spoke,  aiul  said  that  he  thought  as 
they  all  did,  and  that  it  was  his  pur{)ose  to  ask  'i'hreo 
Suns  for  the  girl  to  he  the  wife  of  Whito  Antelope. 
80  the  nuittor  was  eoneluded. 

'I'he  next  day,  when  the  sun  was  liigh,  the  mother 
of  White  Antelope  went  to  the  lodge  of  Three  Suns 
aiul  spoke  to  his  llrst  wife,  telling  her  how  it  wa.s,  and 
that  Hull'alo  Uibs  wanted  her  daughter  for  his  son's 
wife;  and  Three  Suns'  woman  listened,  hut  said 
nothing.  When  'I'hree  Suns  came  again  to  his  camp 
from  his  huntitig,  the  women  took  the  meat  from  the 
horses  and  turned  them  loose.  Then  afterward,  when 
he  had  eaten  and  was  smoking,  as  he  sat  there  rest- 
ing, the  wonuin  told  him  what  JJufTalo  Uibs'  wife 
had  said.  For  a  long  time  the  chief  sat  there  and 
snujkeil,  saying  nothing,  for  he  was  thinking;  but  at 
length  he  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and  spoke 
to  the  woman,  saying :  "  Make  ready  something  to  eat, 
and  I  will  send  word  to  my  close  relations  and  ask 
them  to  come  and  cat  with  me,  a  little  time  before 
the  sun  disappears  behind  the  mountains."  His  wife 
answered  :  "  It  shall  be  as  you  have  said."  She  called 
the  other  wonu'U,  and  they  pre})ared  a  kettleful  of 
dried  nu^at  and  sarvis  berries  and  hung  it  over  the 
lire,  and  from  the  partleches  took  dried  backfat  and 
tongues,  and  made  ready  for  a  feast.  Three  Suns 
called  to  a  young  man  who  lay  asleep  in  the  shade  of 
a  lodge  near  by,  and  said  to  him :  "  Go  now  to  the 
lodges  of  Skunk  Head,  Took  Two  Guns,  Buffalo  Horse, 


A    MARRIAGE. 


33 


ilc  Slniok  Two,  ami  Wolf  Moccasin,  and  tell  them 
that  I  ask  thom  to  come  and  smoke  with  me  a  little 
while  before  the  sun  goes  to  rest  behind  the  mcjun- 
tains."     And  the  voun<'  man  arose  and  went  awav. 

When  the  time  came,  and  the  sun  was  ^a'tting  low, 
these  invited  men  came  to  'riiree  Suns'  lodge  and 
entered,  and  as  they  came  in  tlu'  host  spoke  to  each 
one,  bidding  him  welcome  and  showing  him  where  to 
sit.  To  his  oldest  relations  he  gave  the  seats  furthest 
from  the  door,  while  the  younger  ones  sat  further 
from  himself.  \\'hen  all  ha<l  come,  the  women  set 
food  before  them,  and,  while  they  were  eating.  Three 
Suns  was  cutting  tol)acco  and  lixing  the  i)i])e  for 
smoking.  At  length  'lie  dishes  were  cleared,  the 
women  took  them  away,  and  the  pipe,  having  been 
loaded,  was  i)assed  by  Three  Suns  to  the  young  num 
on  his  right,  who  lighted  it  ami  handed  it  back. 
Then  Three  Suns  made  a  })i'ayer  and  smoked  to  the 
sky,  to  the  earth,  and  to  the  four  })()ints  of  the  com- 
pass, and  haiuled  tlu^  ])ipo  to  the  old  uum  on  his  left 
hand.  He  smoked  and  made  a  prayer,  aiul  passed  it 
to  the  next,  who  did  the  same,  aiul  he  to  the  next, 
and  so  it  went  arouiul,  each  man  nuUving  a  prayer. 
When  he  had  smoked,  Three  Suns  spoke,  and  told 
his  relations  of  the  message  sent  him  by  liulfalo 
Jiibs,  and  asked  them  what  they  thought  about  the 
nuitter,  and  whether  the  marriage  that  had  been 
proposed  ought  to  take  pla(;e.  For  a  little  while  no 
one  s[)oke,  aiul  then  the  oldest  of  the  relations, 
Skunk  Head,  the  uncle  of  Three  Suns,  said  :  "  My 
opinion  is  that  the  girl  should  be  given  to  that  young 
man.  We  all  know  BulTalo  Uibs,  a  brave  num,  lucky 
in  war,  careful  of  his  people,  generous  and  rich.  He 
has  many  horses,  and  is  often  away  upon  the  warpath 


34 


TlIK  STOliV   OF  Till:    INDIAN. 


^'cttiii''  more,  !)tit  wlit'ti  liii.s  lio  lost  one  (»f  liis  voiiiiir 
incn':'  II(!  Una  ^ood  woincii,  not  i'oolisli  oiu's,  iiiul 
tlu'V  arc  ahvjiys  l)iisy.  'I'lic  voiiii;,'  man,  his  son,  has 
(ioiic  well.  Four  times  lie  has  hi'cii  to  war,  and  all 
ills  jonrnevs  have  ht'cn  foi timatf.  lie  will  he  like  his 
rather,  and  lhoii;,d»  now  he  is  only  a  servant,  yet,  if  he 
survives,  the  time  will  come  when  he  will  he  a  hravo, 
and  it  niav  be  a  ehii'f.  Mv  son's*  dauirhter  is  a  ffood 
woman,  and  she  will  make  a  <;ood  wife,  earing  well 
for  her  hushaiurs  comfort,  and  brin;,dn,ij;  up  good  eliil- 
di'en.  Therefore  let  these  young  jteople  sit  beside 
each  other  and  be  man  ami  wife.""  When  he  had  lin- 
ished,  most  of  those  sitting  there  said  it  was  good. 
'I'hen  one  or  two  others  spoke,  saying  the  same  things 
that  Skunk  Head  had  said.  Then  Three  Suns  said  : 
''For  myself,  I  think  with  all  of  yon,  that  it  is  well 
that  my  daughter  should  bo  given  to  this  young  man. 
It  shall  be  done  as  you  have  said."  Some  more  talk 
followed,  as  is  natural  among  relations,  and  then  one 
by  one  the  men  left  the  lodge. 

While  these  older  people  wi-re  talking  thus,  the 
young  ])eo})le  were  talking  too.  From  Three  Suns' 
lodge  a  well-worn  trail  led  thi'ongii  the  sage  brush 
toward  the  stream  and  entered  the  fringe  of  the  wil- 
lows and  uiulei'brush  that  grew  along  its  banks,  and 
down  this  trail,  with  quiek  light  ste])s  and  a  contented 
suule  upon  her  face,  Three  Suns'  daughter  was  pass- 
ing. She  was  neatly — even  handsomely — dressed,  her 
buckskin  moccasins  ornamented  with  bright-coloured 
quills,  and  her  leggings  and  gown  beaded  and  fringed, 
while  many  elk  tushes  were  sewed  to  its  sleeves  and 
shoulders   and  made   a  light   rattling   sound   as   she 


I 


i 


The  Indiiui  cmIIs  liis  no[)lio\vs  sons  and  lii<;  nieces  daughters. 


ir 


A   MAUUlACiK. 


85 


Wiillvcd.  IltT  liuir  Wiis  newly  bniidrd  and  sliiiiiii;;, 
jiinl  licr  clurks,  foivhcad,  and  (lie  parting;  of  licr  hair 
wore  l)ri.L,dit  with  I'rosh  [taint.  About  her  throat  was 
a  niaiiy-<'oloiir('(|  i-oUar  of  small  Ix-ads,  tMnhroidcrcd 
with  sinew  tinvad  on  a  strip  of  sol't-divssiMl  huckskiii 
in  a  curious  pattt-rn,  wiiih'  IVoin  iicr  l(';,';zin;i;s  huni^ 
two  or  thn-c  litthi  brass  hells  which  tiid\lc(l  softly  as 
she  walked,  and  wiih  the  faintly  rattling  v\k  Uvlh 
made  a  little  (dunu-  to  her  iin)vemi'nts. 

The  frinij^e  of  hushes  hordcring  tho  stream  was 
only  a  few  yanls  wide,  but  us  the  girl  approached  it 
shu  looked  ahead  earnestly,  as  if  expecting  to  see 
something.  .Just  within  the  bushes,  in  a  little  open- 
ing at  the  side  of  the  trail,  stood  a  tall  figure  shrouded 
from  head  to  aid\les  in  a  dressed  cow  skin  sheet,  which 
concealed  the  whole  person.  A  corner  of  the  sheet 
was  drawn  over  the  head,  and  the  eyes  looked  out 
throuirh  a  narrow  slit.  Kvidentiv  the  girl  knew  who 
it  was,  for  when  she  saw  the  iigurc  slie  smiled  Ji  little 
to  herself,  held  down  her  head,  aiul  turned  her  face 
away,  but  continued  her  brisk  walk  along  the  trail. 
Just  as  she  had  come  opposite  tlu^  ligure  and  was 
al)()ut  to  })iiss  by,  it  took  a  swift  ste[)  forward,  the 
sheet  opened  aiul  closed  again  about  the  girl,  who 
with  a  faint  exclamation  dropped  her  bucket  and 
stood,  lield  close  in  her  lover's  arms. 

Their  conference  was  a  long  one,  but  at  length  the 
girl  wrenched  herself  free,  jticked  up  her  bucket,  ran 
to  the  water's  edge,  and  filled  it,  and  without  a  word 
glided  away  along  the  trail  toward  tho  camp. 

That  night  a  message  was  sent  to  Butfalo  IJihs, 
telling  him  that  the  proposal  of  nuirriage  was  accept- 
able to  Three  Suns,  and  at  once  the  two  families  be- 
gan to  prepare  for  the  events.  There  was  a  natural 
4 


1 


36 


TIIH  STURV   OF   THK    INDIAN. 


(losiro  on  tlic  pjirt  of  each  to  give  the  two  youn«5^  ;)eo- 
})lo  a  good  start  in  life  ;  hut  hesides  tliis,  as  l)otii  fami- 
lies were  well  to  do  and  of  high  social  standing  in  the 
tribe,  the  members  of  each  were  ambitious  that  their 
marriage  gifts  should  exceed  in  value  those  of  the 
other  family.  'J'his  rivalry  promised  a  generous  out- 
lilting  for  the  j)air.  So  it  was  that  all  the  relations 
on  either  haiul  began  to  consider  what  they  should  give. 
First  of  all,  the  wives  of  Three  Suns  began  to  nudvc 
ready  the  special  ])ropcrty,  which  in  a  marriage  be- 
tween wealthy  people  the  girl  always  brings  with 
lier.  From  her  store  of  iiewlv  dressed  cow  skins, 
white  and  smooth,  the  i)rincipal  wife  of  'riiree  Suns 
chose  sixteen  large  ones,  and  after  going  over  them 
carefully,  and  sewing  up  with  sinew  the  arrow  and  bul- 
let holes,  she  spread  out  these  skins  and  cut  them  so 
as  to  form  the  lodge.  Then  taking  the  bundles  of 
sinew  thread  made  from  the  ligaments  which  lie  along 
the  loin  of  the  buiTalo,  Three  Suns'  wives  and  older 
daughters  began  the  M'ork  of  sewing  together  the 
lodge.  ^Fany  haiuls  mjjke  light  work,  aiul  in  two  or 
three  days  the  task  was  accomplished.  Next  were 
selected  eighteen  new  lodge  polos,  slender  }et  strong, 
smoothly  shaved  down  with  a  knife,  so  that  no  knots, 
splinters,  or  rough  bark  remained  on  them,  by  which 
the  lodge  covering  might  be  Avorn  or  torn,  and  pointed 
at  their  butts  so  that  they  should  not  sli[)  on  the 
smooth  hard  ground.  The  two  longer  poles,  which 
support  the  ears,  or  wings  on  either  side  the  smoke- 
hole,  were  pointed  at  their  upper  ends  as  well,  so  that 
the  loops  at  the  points  of  the  wings  sliould  fit  over 
them  and  should  not  slip  olT  when  blown  by  the  wind. 
Besides  this  lodge,  there  was  supplied  a  lining  for  it, 
back  rests,  parlleches  to  pack  with  and  to  contain 


I  i 


1}  i 


A    MAURlA(iE. 


food,  utensils  with  wliicli  to  })ro])iiro,  cook,  and  serve 
il;  buckets  and  cups  for  wjiter — in  fact,  all  the  furniture 
of  a  honu'.  ^lany  of  these  articles  had  already  been 
made  bv  the  women  of  the  family,  many  others  Avcro 
sent  to  the  lodge  as  presents  by  the  <,nrrs  relations. 

Ik'sides  the  clotiiiu<if  which  tlie  girl  already  pos- 
sessed, liierc  ^vcre  i)rovided  new  gowns,  leggings,  ami 
nu)cea^?in::,  all  of  them  embroidered  with  beads  and 
bright  ([iiills,  and  ornamented  with  fringe  and  with 
strips  of  fur  or  red  or  blue  cloth.  'J'he  gowns  were 
made  of  buck  or  elk  skin  carefully  tanned,  smooth  and 
ilexible,  smoked  so  as  not  to  harden  when  they  become 
\vet,  and  then  carefully  whitened  Mith  white  clay. 
The  leggings  were  of  buckskin.  The  girl's  summer 
sheet  was  the  well-tanned  skin  of  a  bulTalo  heifer,  or 
of  an  elk,  on  which  the  dew  claws  had  been  left. 
After  it  had  been  tanned  ami  smoked,  its  outer  surface 
— that  from  which  the  hair  had  been  remoyed — was 
thoroughly  rubbed  with  white  clay,  after  which  the 
skin  was  beaten  to  remove  the  superfluous  earth.  This 
was  rejieated  from  time  to  time  as  the  sheet  became 
soiled,  aiul  so  it  wjis  always  white  and  new  looking. 

To  his  oldest  daughter,  Three  Suns  had  already 
given  two  riding  horses  and  a  pack  horse,  and  she  al- 
ready had  her  own  riding  saddle — high  peaked  in  front 
aiul  behind,  and  fringed  with  bucd-cskin,  with  an  em- 
broidered saddlecloth — as  well  as  a  pack  saddle.  Very 
likely  another  saddlecloth  will  be  given  her,  made 
from  a  })art  of  a  buffalo  robe,  tjinned  very  soft,  the 
upper  surface — the  flesh  side  of  the  robe — embroidered 
with  beads  aiul  bordered  with  red  or  blue  cloth  which 
is  also  beaded.  Perhaps  one  of  her  brothers,  or  her 
mother,  may  have  nuule  for  her  riding  horse  a  head- 
stall of  rawhide,  which  she  has  wound  with  beads  and 


mmmm 


IMM 


38 


TllK  STORY   OF  THE   IXDfAX. 


adorned  Avith  two  or  three  Lrass  bells.  Among  the 
various  household  utensils  esi)eeiully  recjuired  by  ti  girl 
about  to  be  nuirried  are  knives  for  butchering,  mauls, 
large  and  small,  scrapers  and  llcshers  for  tanning 
liides,  pots  and  kettles  for  cooking,  vessels  to  hold 
water  and  cups  to  drink  from,  dishes  to  eat  from, 
spoons,  and  ladles.  All  these  various  articles  the  girl 
Avill  receive,  in  much  the  same  way  as  a  young  woman 
of  our  day  and  civilization  receives  her  trousseau  and 
her  wedding  gifts.  Her  mother  and  father  sup})ly  the 
lodge,  the  robes,  the  clothing,  and  besides  all  this  a 
dowry  of  horses.  The  father  also  often  presents  to 
liis  son-in-law  his  own  weapons  of  war  and  his  war 
clothing.  Such  a  gift  means  more  than  the  mere 
value  of  the  articles,  though  usually  this  is  not  small, 
and,  besides,  they  are  endeared  to  their  owner  by  many 
associations.  It  is  an  evidence  of  the  liigh  esteem  in 
which  he  holds  the  young  man,  and  is  an  unspoken 
assurance  that  the  donor  believes  his  son-in-law  will 
use  these  things  with  as  much  credit  to  himself  as 
their  former  owner.  It  is  the  highest  compliment  that 
a  man  can  pay  to  his  son-in-law. 

"While  all  the  preparations  for  the  marriage  were 
going  on  Three  Suns'  daughter  had  to  face  a  trial. 
AVhen  it  had  been  decided  that  she  should  become  the 
wife  of  White  Antelope,  she  had  to  do  something  very 
hard — a  thing  which  Avould  tell  the  peojjle  of  the  camp 
that  the  marriage  was  to  take  place. 

The  next  morning  after  the  matter  had  been  de- 
termined. Three  Suns'  daughter  selected  some  food, 
the  best  that  there  was  in  the  lodge,  cooked  it,  and 
when  it  was  ready  to  be  eaten,  she  put  it  in  a  bowl, 
covered  it  with  a  dish,  and  then  clad  in  her  b^st 
clothes  and  followed  by  her  younger  sister,  she  left 


. 


f 


STl' 


A   MARRIAGE. 


39 


lior  father's  lodge  and  walked  toward  that  oecupied 
by  ButTalo  JJibs.  All  the  people  whom  she  i)assed, 
sitting  or  standing  about  the  camp,  looked  curiously  at 
lier  as  she  went  by  them,  and  some  of  the  young  peo- 
ple giggled  and  whispered  together.  The  girl  felt 
very  much  ashamed,  but  she  walked  along  with  her 
eyes  cast  down,  lier  sister  following  modestly  behind 
her,  and  soon  reached  the  lodge  to  which  she  was  go- 
ing and  entered  it.  Turning  to  the  left  she  sat  down 
for  a  moment  on  the  woman's  side,  so  as  to  see  who 
was  there,  and  she  was  glad  when  she  found  that  the 
only  peoi)lo  within  were  AVhite  Antelope,  who  was  at 
work  smoothing  arrowshafts  between  two  stones,  and 
Buffalo  Ribs'  first  wife  and  daughter,  who  were  sewing 
moccasins.  AVhen  the  girl  saw  that  these  were  the 
oidy  people  in  the  lodge,  she  rose,  and  going  to  where 
"White  Antelope  sat,  she  oll'ered  the  dish  to  him.  lie 
took  it  and  ate,  and  the  girl  returned  to  her  })lace  and 
sat  down.  After  the  boy  had  eaten,  he  put  down  the 
dish  on  the  ground  before  him,  and  Avent  on  with  his 
work,  and  the  girl  again  rising,  took  the  dish  and  of- 
fered it  to  his  mother,  who  also  ate  a  little,  and  then 
put  it  down.  A  few  moments  after  this  the  daughters 
of  Three  vSuns  left  the  lodge  and  walked  back  toward 
their  father's.  As  she  was  returning  the  girl  still  held 
her  eyes  down  and  looked  neither  to  the  right  nor  to 
the  left,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  people  did  not 
stare  so  much,  and  that  the  boys  and  girls  did  not  tit- 
ter and  talk  so  much  about  her. 

During  the  whole  time  between  the  acceptance  of 
the  proposal  and  the  marriage  the  girl  thus  brought 
food  each  day  to  White  Antelope,  serving  him  as  a 
wife  should  servo  her  husband,  and  thus  telling  all  the 
people  that  they  were  to  be  man  and  wife. 


NM^i 


HP 


40 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


!i1 


;    !. 


During  tlie  days  of  jircparation  for  tlie  marrijigo, 
wliich  usiiallv  are  not  inanv,  the  relations  of  Three 
Suns  were  brinfjing  tlieir  presents  to  the  lodge.  The 
men  brought  men's  things  and  the  women  things  used 
by  women,  and  by  the  time  the  day  had  come  tiiere 
might  be  two  or  three  horseloads  of  gifts.  When  all 
was  ready,  the  mother  and  daughter  packed  all  these 
things  on  some  of  the  horses  with  the  new  lodge  and 
lodge  poles,  and  moving  olf  to  near  wliere  JiulTaio 
Ribs'  gens  was  camped,  the  horses  were  un])acked,  the 
lodge  was  \n\i  up,  the  furniture  was  moved  into  it,  a 
tire  was  kindled,  and  the  horses  belonging  to  the  girl 
and  those  presented  by  the  relations  were  tied  outside 
the  lodge.  Then  the  mother  went  back  to  her  home. 
As  soon  as  she  had  gone,  AVliite  Antelo})e,  perhaps 
accompanied  by  one  of  his  young  brothers,  drove  up 
his  horses  and  tied  them  near  the  lodge  and  entered. 
Thus  the  marriage  was  accomplished. 

Before  this,  the  boy  or  his  father  and  his  relations 
had  got  together  the  horses  which  were  to  be  sent  to 
Three  Suns.  They  all  wished  to  be  considered  gener- 
ous, and  they  made  it  a  point  to  send  to  the  chief 
presents  of  greater  value  than  those  which  the  girl 
had  received  from  her  family.  These  presents  were, 
many  of  them,  distributed  among  those  relations  who 
had  made  gifts  to  the  girl.  Soon  after  the  marriage, 
feasts  were  given  by  the  two  families  in  honour  of  the 
newly  married  pair,  and  on  such  occasions,  those  of  the 
girl's  relations  who  had  received  gifts  sent  to  Three 
Suns  by  Buffalo  Ribs  or  his  family,  made  presents  of 
like  value  to  the  young  people.  So  all  the  presents 
given  by  both  families  came  back  at  last  to  the  newly 
married  pair. 

It  is  of  course  understood  that  the  marriage  cus- 


A   MARRIAGE. 


41 


toms  of  (liirercnt  tribes  vary  widely,  and  that,  even 
witliin  the  same  tribe,  no  two  marriages  take  ])lace  in 
precisely  the  same  way.  Among  the  i)oor  and  the 
nnimportant  there  is  much  less  ceremony  than  among 
those  who  are  of  good  family  and  well  to  do. 

As  an  example  of  the  ways  of  a  particular  tribe — 
the  Pawnees — the  following  account*  is  given  : 

In  the  oiden  time,  before  they  had  horses,  when 
their  dogs,  their  simple  arms,  and  their  clothing  con- 
stituted all  their  possessions,  the  Pawnees  married  for 
love.  The  affection  which  existed  between  two  young 
people  was  then  the  only  motive  which  brought  about 
a  union,  and  this  affection  was  seldom  interfered  with 
unless  there  was  a  very  great  diil'erence  between  the 
social  standing  of  the  family  of  the  boy  and  of  the 
girl,  for  it  must  be  understood  that  oxon  in  primitive 
times  rank  existed  in  a  Pawnee  camp,  just  as  it  does 
to-day  in  civilized  society. 

After  the  Pawnees  obtained  horses  and  began  to 
accumulate  property — as  the  people  acrpiired  wealth, 
and  their  circumstances  became  easier — the  practice 
arose  of  giving  presents  to  the  immediate  relatives  of 
the  girl  whose  hand  was  sought  in  marriage.  These 
})rcsents  were  given  in  order  to  conciliate  those  rela- 
tions who  controlled  the  girl.  Origiiiating  merely  in 
this  desire  to  gain  the  good  will  of  her  family,  the 
custom  graduallv  became  more  and  more  firmlv  estab- 
lished  until  it  h.ul  come  to  be  a  matter  of  course  to 
give  presents,  and  finally  a  matter  of  necessity  if  the 
young  man  hoped  to  gain  the  consent  of  the  girl's 
family  to  his  proposal  of  marriage.     The  presents  at 


*  Marriage  among  the  Pawnees.     American  Anthropoli)gist, 
July,  1891. 


HMI 


mm^^ 


42 


THK   STORY   OF  TIIK   INDIAN'. 


first  were  pr()l)jiljly  small  in  vuliio  Jind  munbor,  but  in 
a  case  where  there  was  more  than  one  suitor  for  the 
o-irl  there  would  naturally  be  a  rivalry  on  the  ])art  of 
the  families  of  the  youiio;  men,  and  each  would  strive 
to  hc-1])  the  cause  of  its  own  member  by  i)resenting 
j;ifts  more  valuable  than  those  offered  by  the  other. 
Young  men  of  standing  and  position  would  put  forth 
every  eifort  to  make  the  families  of  the  women  they 
loved  presents  as  handsome  as  had  their  fellows  who 
had  married,  and  all  this  would  have  its  inlluence  on 
families  who  counted  marriageable  girls  among  their 
number.  Parents  and  relatives,  at  iirst  receiving  these 
as  evidences  of  friendship  and  good  will,  would  at 
length  come  to  regard  them  as  their  due,  aiul  would 
ultinuitelv  insist  on  receiving  them  as  a  condition  of 
giving  their  consent  to  the  marriage  proposal,  think- 
ing themselves  injured  and  even  defrauded  if  they 
were  not  forthcoming;  so  little  by  little  the  matter 
of  obtaining  a  wife  grew  to  be  regarded,  not  only  by 
the  suitor  aiul  the  girl's  father,  but  by  the  tribe  at 
large,  as  an  actual  purchase  of  the  woman. 

Among  the  Pawnees,  however,  these  presents  were 
not  always,  nor,  I  believe,  even  usually,  regarded  as  a 
price  paid  for  the  girl.  They  did  not  speak  of  them 
otherwise  than  as  presents  made  to  her  family.  Often 
the  gifts  were  not  decided  on  until  after  the  marriage 
had  taken  ])lace.  A  father  would  give  his  daughter 
to  a  young  man  of  a  good  family  or  one  who  was  well 
to  do  without  making  any  stipulations  as  to  what  the 
presents  should  be,  and  a  Pawnee  young  man  might 
say,  "  I  am  going  to  marry  such  a  girl.  It  is  left  to 
me  what  I  shall  do  afterward."  (Tut  ki'tta  wi  i'ri  la 
tits  ka,  hVt  kut.) 

A  young  man  did  not  expect  to  marry  until  he  had 


' 


A   MARIUAOE. 


4:1 


come  to  1)C  ail  expert  hunter,  and  so  was  able  to  sup- 
port a  wife.  Tliis  gave  him  standin.u^  with  the  parents, 
who  woukl  naturally  be  more  willing  to  give  their 
daughter  to  a  good  provider.  Nor  did  he  usually 
think  about  taking  a  wife  until  he  liad  been  on  the 
warpath  and  either  brought  baek  some  horses  or  had 
struck  an  enemy.  Tiiis  would  give  him  favour  in  the 
eyes  of  the  young  women. 

When  a  young  man  had  determined  that  he 
wishes  to  marry  he  perhajjs  courted  the  girl  in  the 
nsual  way,  or,  if  he  had  no  fondness  for  any  particular 
young  woman,  he  spoke  to  his  parents  and  announced 
to  them  his  wish  to  take  a  wife. 

In  case  the  boy  had  merely  decided  that  he  wished 
to  marry  and  had  not  himself  made  a  choice,  his  rela- 
tions talked  the  matter  over  and  selected  a  girl.  This 
luiving  been  done,  some  old  man  was  called  in,  and 
asked  to  conduct  the  negotiations  between  the  two 
families.  Usually,  if  it  was  convenient,  the  man 
selected  for  this  purpose— at  least  among  the  Skidi— 
was  a  priest,  one  greased  with  the  sacred  fat  of  the 
bulfalo.  Such  a  num's  influence  with  the  family  he 
was  about  to  visit  would  be  stronger  than  that  of  a 
common  man,  and  he  would  be  more  likely  to  receive 
a  favourable  answer. 

On  a  chosen  day  this  old  man  and  the  suitor  would 
prepare  themselves  for  a  visit  to  the  lodge  of  the  girFs 
father.  The  old  man  would  paint  his  face  with  red 
earth,  while  the  boy  would  also  paint  himself,  put 
beads  about  his  neck,  and  don  his  best  attire,  his 
finest  leggings  and  moccasins  worked  with  quills  or 
beads.  Both  then  put  on  their  robes,  hair  side  out, 
and  late  in  the  afternoon,  about  four  or  five  o'clock, 
they  started  toward  the  lodge  where  the  girl  lived, 


44 


THE   STORY   OF   THE    INDIAN. 


' 


1  It. 

m  1'^ 


•   t 


(If 


tlic  old  niiin  lending  the  way,  the  young  one  following 
at  his  heels. 

Of  course,  when  the  people  of  the  eamp  saw  an  old 
man  followed  bv  a  voun<j  one,  both  wearini^  their  robes 

^  t,  CD  '  O 

hair  side  out,  walking  through  the  village,  they  knew 
that  a  proposal  of  nuirriage  was  going  to  be  made,  and 
usually  a  pretty  shrewd  guess  could  be  hazarded  as  to 
the  lodffc  thev  were  "[oing  to.  If  the  father  of  an  v  jjrirl 
suspected  that  his  lodge  was  to  be  visited,  he  would 
hurry  home,  to  be  there  to  receive  the  ambassador  and 
as])irant. 

When  the  men  reacluMl  the  lodge  they  entered  and 
squatted  by  the  lire  just  to  the  right  of  the  door,  ready 
to  take  their  departure  if  they  were  not  nuide  welcome. 
If  the  father  was  at  home  he  would  s])eak  to  the  old 
man,  who  would  explain  to  him  the  object  of  the  visit. 
^JMien  the  visitors  would  go  out  of  the  lodge  and  return 
to  that  of  the  boy's  family.  Jt  might  sometimes  hap- 
l)en  that  there  was  more  than  one  marriageable  girl  in 
the  lodge,  and  then,  in  the  absence  of  the  father,  the 
oldest  person  in  the  lodge  would  inquire  of  the  old  mini 
which  girl  it  was  whose  hand  was  sought,  and  after 
learning  would  ask  the  visitors  to  go  home  and  return 
later. 

The  same  evening  they  would  come  back  to  the 
lodge  and  find  many  or  most  of  the  girl's  relations. 
Those  who  were  nimble  to  come  have  sent  word  that 
they  agree  to  whatever  the  others  may  decide  on. 
These  relations  have  thorouji^hlv  discussed  the  vouns: 
man,  his  social  standing,  his  skill  as  a  hunter,  his 
prowess  in  war,  and  his  general  desirability  as  a  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  and  have  determined  what  answer 
shall  be  made  to  the  olTer  of  marriage.  When  the  two 
men  enter  the  lodge  the  second  time,  if  they  sec  a  robe 


A    MARRIAGE. 


45 


or  bljinket  spread  for  tlicin  to  sit  on,  tlicy  know  tliat 
tliey  are  welcome  and  that  tlic  answer  will  be  favour- 
aijle.  If  no  seat  is  provided  they  go  away  at  once  ; 
their  proposal  is  declined. 

After  speeches  have  been  made  by  the  girl's  rela- 
tions, one  of  them  takesai)ii)e  and  lights  it.  lie  prays, 
blows  a  few  puiTs  to  the  sky,  to  the  earth,  and  to  the 
four  cardinal  jmints,  and  then  oilers  it  to  the  old  man, 
saying,  as  he  docs  so,  ''  1  hope  that  you  will  take  pity 
on  us,  for  we  are  poor."  This  seems  to  be  at  once  an 
expression  of  good  feeling  and  a  hope  that  the  young 
people  may  get  along  well  together — may  h.ive  no 
trouble  after  they  are  married. 

The  old  man  smokes  first,  and  then  the  relation 
offers  the  i)ipe  to  the  suitor,  who  does  the  same,  both 
saving,  Ln'ica  i'ri.  When  this  has  been  done  the  two 
rise  and  retire,  the  old  man  taking  the  robe  or  blanket 
on  which  they  have  been  sitting  as  his  present  from 
the  girl's  relations.  On  returning  to  the  young  man's 
lodge  they  report  to  his  relations  assembled  there  the 
result  of  their  visit,  and  satisfaction  is  expressed  at  its 
favourable  outcome.  The  presents  for  the  girl's  family 
are  now  contributed  by  the  boy's  relations.  They  con- 
sist of  l)lankets,  robes,  guns,  horses,  aiid  so  on,  and  are 
usua  ken  on  the  same  night  to  the  lodge  where  the 
girl  lives  y  one  of  the  young  man's  relations — his 
mother,  aunt,  or  sister.  On  being  received  they  are 
distributed  among  the  relations  of  the  girl. 

Early  next  morning  the  young  man  is  invited  for 
the  first  time  over  to  the  lodge  where  the  girl  lives. 
Before  he  arrives  the  girl  has  combed  her  hair,  })ut  on 
her  best  clothing,  and  is  sitting  on  a  robe  in  the  most 
honourable  seat,  far  back  in  the  lodge.  When  the 
young  man  comes  in,  a  cushion  or  pillow  is  placed  by 


^ 


40 


TIIK  STORY   OF  TlIP:   INDIAN'. 


■  'i     ' 


'  w 


I   ■ 


if! 

I  Mi 


tliu  side  of  tlu'  ^^iil,  juul  liiT  futlicr  or  soiiit'  of  Iut  re- 
liitions  tells  liiiii  to  sit  down  h\  licr  side.  'I'liu  lmtI 
tlicii  rises,  tiikcs  u  disli  contaiiiiiig  food,  Avliicli  slit* 
pliict'S  lu'fore  liiin,  and  tliey  both  cat.  'I'lie  ^nrl  is  now 
his  wife,  and  ho  stays  licrc  and  niakos  his  lionie  in  her 
i'allu'r's  lod^^i!  for  a  time,  usually  until  he  luis  snnio 
children  and  fuels  that  he  can  set  up  a  lodge  of  his 
own. 

It  was  not  infreciucntly  the  case,  where  a  pirl  had 
two  or  three  suitors  that  her  parents  might  wish  her  to 
marry  one,  while  she  preferred  another.  Very  severe 
measures  were  often  resorted  to  in  order  to  force  li(;r 
to  marry  the  one  chosen  by  the  family,  and  unless  she 
could  succeed  in  runnin<jr  awav  with  the  man  of  her 
choice  she  usually  had  to  yield  to  the  family  inlluence. 

Vouno;er  sisters  were  the  potential  wives  of  the 
husband  of  the  oldest  <^nrl.  Jf  a  nuirried  man  died, 
his  wives  became  the  wives  of  his  oldest  brother. 

A  word  or  two  with  regard  to  the  position  of  the 
wife  in  the  household  may  not  be  out  of  })lace  hero. 
The  Indian  wonuin,  it  is  usually  thought,  is  a  mere 
drudge  and  slave,  but,  so  far  as  my  observations  ex- 
tend, this  notion  is  wholly  an  erroneous  one.  It  is 
true  that  the  women  were  the  labourers  of  the  camp ; 
that  they  did  all  the  hard  work  about  which  there  was 
no  excitement.  They  cooked,  brought  wood  aiul  wa- 
ter, dried  the  meat,  dressed  the  robes,  made  the  cloth- 
ing, collected  the  lodge  poles,  packed  the  horses,  cul- 
tivated the  ground,  and  generally  performed  all  the 
tasks  which  might  be  called  menial,  but  they  were  not 
mere  servants.  On  the  contrary,  their  i)Osition  was 
very  respectable.  They  were  consulted  on  many  sub- 
jects, not  only  in  connection  with  family  affairs,  but 
in  more  important  and  general  matters.     Sometimes 


to 


Il 


A    MAKUl.Uii:. 


wonu'ii  were  even  mltiiitUd  to  the  coimcils  and  spoke 
tlierc,  ^iviiij,'  their  lulviee.  This  privih-j^e  was  very  iiii- 
usuui,  uiul  was  j^n-aiited  only  to  wotiim  who  had  yvr- 
forined  some  deed  whieh  was  worthy  (»t'  a  man.  This 
in  praetiee  nu-ant  tiiat  siu'  iiad  kilUd  or  eoimtid  coup 
on  an  rnemy,  or  had  been  to  war. 

In  ordinary  family  eonversalion  wonu-n  did  not 
liesitate  to  intcrriiiit  and  correet  their  iiushands  when 
the  latter  made  statements  with  whii'h  tiu-y  did  not 
iv^vvv,  and  the  men  listened  to  tlu-m  with  rcsprctl'id 
attention,thou<,diof  eourse  thisdei)en(U'd  on  tin-  stand- 
ing of  the  woman,  her  intelli^'ence,  etc.  W  hih'  their 
lives  were  hard  and  fnll  of  toil,  they  yet  fonnd  time  t(» 
get  together  for  gossij)  and  for  gami)li!ig,  and  on  the 
whole  managed  to  take  a  good  deal  of  i)leasure  in  life. 


m 


mmmiF 


HMPWnil^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 


SrnSTSTENCE. 


.\ii 


!'i 


TiiK  life  of  tlic  Iiuliiin  wiis  in  sonic  respects  a 
lijird  one,  for  the  question  of  food  was  an  evor-i)resent 
anxiety  with  him.  We  are  tohl  in  boolvs  much  about 
the  Indian's  improvidence,  and  it  is  frequently  stated 
that  liowever  abundant  food  might  be  with  liim  to- 
day, he  took  no  tliouglit  for  the  needs  of  tlie  morrow. 
Such  statements  are  untrue,  and  sliow  but  superllcial 
observation.  'J'he  savage  (k)es  not  look  so  far  ahead 
as  does  the  civilized  man,  but  still  the  lessons  of  exi)e- 
rience  are  not  wholly  lost  on  him.  lie  remembers 
past  hardshi})s,  and  endeavours  to  i)rovide  against 
their  recurrence ;  aiul  these  i)eople  wei'e  rather  re- 
markable for  their  foresight,  and  for  the  provision 
which  they  were  accustomed  to  make  for  the  future. 
The  tribes  which  tilled  the  ground,  dried  the  corn, 
beans,  and  squashes  which  they  grew,  and  usually  had 
enough  of  these  to  last  them  until  the  next  crop  was 
harvested  ;  others  which  were  not  agriculturists  gath- 
ered at  the  dilTerent  seasons  of  the  year,  when  they 
were  ripe,  great  quantities  of  berries  and  roots  of  va- 
rious kinds,  which  were  dried  and  stored  in  sacks  made 
of  parlle(!he,  or  of  woven  grass  or  reeds,  until  sucli 
time  as  they  should  be  needed.  This  surplus  food  was 
not  jilways  carried  about  with  them,  but  was  hidden 
in  caches,  which  were  visited  from  time  to  time  as  the 

48 


SUIiSISTKXCK. 


4i) 


food  was  roqiiiivd.  Tlie  Iiuliuiis  of  tlu*  j)luins  who 
dcpiMuh'd  for  siibsisti'iu'e  larj^H'Iy  on  the  bulhUo,  dried 
great  stores  of  its  lUvsli  against  times  of  need,  and  this 
dried  meat — which  wouhl  keep  for  an  imk'linite  h'liglh 
of  time — was  iiseil  to  make  tiie  milrilioiis  jiemmieaii. 

.Many  of  tiie  mountain  trihes  mach'  annual  pil- 
grimages to  tiie  plains  for  hutValo  meat — eiioosing 
esj)i'eially  the  season  at  whieii  the  animals  wei'e  fat 
and  the  skins  in  good  eondilion  for  lobes — and  in  this 
•way  secured  a  portion  of  their  winter's  su})j)Iy  of  meat ; 
but  the  mountain  tribes  depended  largely  on  tiie  llesli 
of  mountain  game — deer,  elk,  wild  sheep,  and  goats — 
whieh  they  iuinted  persistently  and  with  great  success. 
The  meat  of  these  animals  was  dried. 

Still  further  to  the  west  the  Indians,  as  summer 
drew  on,  began  to  gather  along  the  streams  up  whieh 
the  salmon  run  to  spawn.  V>y  means  of  traps,  gall's, 
spears,  and  dip  nets,  they  took  each  season  enormous 
(juantities  of  fish,  whicii  were  sun  or  smoke  dried  and 
l)aeked  away  in  r((c//cs.  'I'iiese  were  rough  W(  oiU'n 
boxes  made  of  "shakes'"  —  rough  jilanks  or  slabs 
M'edged  oil'  from  the  trunk  of  the  white  cedar  or  ar- 
borvita\  For  protection  against  the  ravages  of  wild 
animals  or  insects,  these  cac/iC'i  were  usually  ])laced 
high  up  in  the  branches  of  a  tree.  Jn  this  position 
they  were,  of  course,  visible  to  the  })asser-by,  but  were 
never  disturbed,  the  ])roperty  of  othei's  always  being 
respected.  Only  in  the  case  of  people  actually  ])er- 
ishing  of  hunger  would  anything  be  taken  from  such 
a  cache,  and  in  cases  of  su(;h  extremitv  the  disturber 
was  welcome  to  what  he  needed. 

Finally,  when  we  reach  the  coast,  we  find  a  people 
who  lived  principally  on  the  products  of  the  sea,  but 
who  still  were  at  home  iu  the  mountains.     These  were 


50 


Till-:   STORY   OF   Till-:   INDIAN. 


i 


i:! 


-■■t 


canoe  pc()])lo,  and  in  tlieir  frail  barks,  burned  and 
^\ilittkHl  out  of  tlie  trunk  of  a  ^roat  codar  troo,  tlioy 
made  long  journeys  to  tlio  lisbing  banks  for  lialibut, 
or  to  tlie  rocks  for  fur  seal  and  sea  lion,  or  followed 
the  sea  otter  or  cbased  and  killed  tlie  wliale.  Follow- 
ing up  the  inlets  or  the  mouths  of  the  i-ivers,  they  ea})- 
tured  the  salmon  with  the  two-pronged  sjx'ar,  or,  an- 
chored in  some  narrow  channel,  swept  the  long  iisli 
rake  through  the  shoals  of  herring,  taking  them  by 
canoeloads.  When  the  delicate  oolachan,  or  candle- 
fish,  came  to  the  beaches  to  s})awn,  they  gathered  them 
for  their  flesh  and  oil.  In  the  spring  and  autumn, 
Avhen  the  coat  of  the  white  goat  was  long  and  shaggy, 
they  climbed  the  steep  mountain  sides  to  its  home 
and  killed  it  for  its  meat  and  for  the  fleece,  which  the 
women  Avove  into  warm  and  durable  blaidvots.  In 
summer,  they  watched  at  lakes  and  in  little  nu)untain 
parks  to  shoot  deer,  or  coasted  along  the  seashore  and 
killed  theui  when  they  came  down  to  the  beach  to  feed 
on  the  seaweed,  or  again  in  winter,  when  the  snows 
had  driven  them  thither  from  the  thick  timber,  whi(;h 
is  their  usual  haunt.  Most  of  this  work  was  done  by 
the  men.  The  women  gathered  berries  and  dried 
them  for  winter  use,  and  collected  dulse  aloi^g  the 
shore. 

Further  to  the  south  there  were  different  ways 
among  the  different  tribes,  depending  on  the  various 
l)roducts  of  the  territory  iidiabited.  The  Indians  of 
^'evada  and  Utah  cai)tured  great  numbers  of  jack 
rabbits  by  surrounding  them,  and  drove  the  locusts 
into  pits.  The  coast  Indians  of  southern  California 
subsisted  largely  on  shelliish.  Some  tribes  made  a 
bretul  of  the  dried  sweet  acorn  of  the  California  oak. 
In  the  central  region  pine  nuts,  and  further  south  the 


!     ! 


11 


1 


SUBSISTKNCK. 


51 


boaii  of  tlic  mesquito,  scrvi'd  the  same  purpose.  'J'lio 
J'ueblo  tribes  of  Mew  ]\Iexieo  and  Arizona  cultivated 
tlie  ground,  raising  corn  by  means  of  irrigation,  wliich 
they  liad  ])ractised  from  time  immemorial.  The  des- 
ert-inhabiting Mavajo  and  Apache  still  eat  the  fruit  of 
the  cactus  and  roast  mescal  roots. 

Although  the  larger  anim.als  were  the  most  impor- 
tant source  of  food  supply,  it  must  not  be  supposed 
that  the  smaller  ones  were  neglected.  Wild  cats, 
beavers,  skunks,  prairie  dogs,  ground  squirrels,  rats, 
and  all  birds  were  eaten  when  they  could  be  had,  not 
alwavs  from  necessitv,  but  because  they  were  good  for 
food.  These  were  taken  in  traps  and  snares,  and  usu- 
ally by  the  boys. 

The  Indian  made  the  most  of  what  his  country 
l)roduced,  and  in  time  of  abundance  strove  to  lay  up 
l)rovisions  against  the  day  of  want.  AVhen  the  buffalo 
were  plenty,  he  rioted  in  slaughter  and  feasted  fat,  and 
dried  much  meat  and  tongues  and  backfat.  If  the 
run  of  salmon  was  large,  he  caught  all  that  he  could, 
and  his  drying  scaffolds  far  up  the  billside  shone  red 
against  the  background  of  green  ;  if  the  berry  or  the 
root  crop  was  jilentiful,  the  women  worked  hard  to 
gather  and  dry  them  in  great  quantities.  For  a  day 
mioht  come  when  no  butTalo  could  be  found,  when 
the  salmon  would  not  run  up  the  river,  and  the  root 
or  berry  crop  would  fail.  l>itter  exi)erience  had  taught 
the  Indian  that  he  might  at  any  time  have  to  face 
starvation. 

The  Indian  recognises  that  his  whole  life  is  a  con- 
test with  Nature,  that  all  her  powers  are  opjiosed  to 
him.  lie  realizes  his  own  feebleness,  and  sees  that  to 
procure  subsistence  he  must  overcome  Nature  and 
wrest  a  livelihood  from  her  unwilling  grasp.     He  can 


52 


TIIK   STOUY    OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


0 

5 1. 


only  ^iiiii  the  victory  and  be  succossfiil  in  liis  uiuUt- 
takings  if  ho  lias  tlio  liclp  of  some  stronger  jxnver, 
some  force  which  is  liiirher  tlian  Xatnre — whicli  rules 
it — so,  literally,  "  h)okiiig  through  Nature  u})  to  J\'a- 
ture's  (Jod,"  ho  ai)i)eals  to  his  god  for  assistance,  and 
to  win  the  Deity  over  to  his  side,  and  also  to  show 
how  much  in  earnest  ho  is,  he  olTers  sacrifices  of  food, 
tobacco,  ornaments,  a  lock  of  his  hair,  or  a  bit  of  his 
flesh.  Since  without  food  life  is  impossible,  all  impor- 
tant hunting  ex])e(litions  were  preceded  by  religious 
ceremonies  more  or  less  elaborate,  which  had  for  their 
object  the  propitiation  of  the  Deity  and  the  obtaining 
his  help.  The  Pawnees,  before  they  started  on  the 
liunt,  devoted  several  days  to  religious  observances — 
fasting,  praying,  and  dancing,  under  the  direction  of 
the  i)riests,  jisking  for  assistance  in  the  hunt,  for 
l)lenty  of  buttah*,  and,  as  always  in  their  prayers,  for 
long  life,  health,  and  strength.  AVitli  them  also  the 
first  deer  or  bulTalo  slain  in  the  hunt  was  always  sac- 
rificed to  the  Deify.  In  the  same  way  the  Uees,  ^Ian- 
dans,  and  (Jros  Ventres  of  the  village  prefaced  their 
hunts  by  religious  ceremonies.  Among  some  tribes 
no  general  observance  of  this  kind  took  i)lace,  but  he 
who  acted  the  chief  })art  in  the  work  of  tra})ping  the 
bulTalo  sjjcnt  the  night  before  he  entered  on  his  task 
in  prayer,  and  the  priests — those  whose  petitions  to 
the  Deity  were  supposed  to  be  most  efficacious — de- 
voted much  time  to  olTering  up  prayers  for  the  suc- 
cess of  the  drive. 

The  enormous  multitudes  of  bufTalo  that  fed  on  the 
plains  and  in  the  mountains  of  the  West  made  it  iisu- 
ullv  an  easy  matter  'n  modern  times  for  the  tribes  to 
supply  themselves  wi  h  food,  and  yet  the  buffalo  were 
not  sure  to  l)e  always  at  hand.     T'hey  were  as  nomadic 


il 


srnsisTKNri;. 


53 


as  the  Iiidiiins,  aiul  sometinuvs  moved  iiwiiy  from  tiny 
fjivcn  region  aiul  did  not  rea]»pear  for  montiis,  so  tliut 
the  food  stored  u[)  by  the  people  becjime  entirely  ex- 
hausted. Tiiey  were  then  obli<^ed  to  turn  tiieir  at- 
tention to  the  smaHer  game,  antelope,  deer,  and  elk, 
which  they  could  kill  about  their  cami)S,  but  these 
aninuds  could  never  be  relied  on  for  support.  Tor 
this  reason,  it  was  the  practice  among  many  of  tiio 
bulTalo-eating  tribes  to  send  runners  out  to  nuike  long 
journeys  to  iind  the  buil'alo,  and,  by  watching  them, 
to  learn  in  what  direction  they  were  teiuling,and  then 
to  report  as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  cam}). 

When  it  is  remembered  how  abundant  aiul  how 
unsuspicious  of  danger  the  bulTalo  were  in  the  early 
days  in  the  West,  it  might  be  inuigined  that  the 
vigorous  and  active  Indian — a  footman  who  was  al- 
ways  on  the  march,  and  nearly  as  swift  and  enduring 
as  the  bulTalo — would,  unck'r  ordinary  conditions,  have 
been  able  always  to  keep  himself  supplied  with  food, 
even  though  he  carried  oidy  a  l)ow  jiiul  arrows  as  his 
weapon.  Hut  such  a  conclusion  would  be  erro- 
neous. 

It  is  difficult  for  us  who  dwell  among  the  civilized 
surroundings  of  this  age  to  realize  how  severe  was  the 
struggle  for  existence  of  primitive  man  in  America; 
what  the  condition  of  the  Indian  was  in  the  days  be- 
fore the  white  man  had  come,  bringing  with  him  fire- 
arms which  kill  at  a  distance  and  horses  which  can 
overtake  the  bulfalo.  To  comprehend  this,  we  must 
stop  and  think,  trying  to  move  ourselves  some  centu- 
ries back  to  the  time  of  the  stone  age,  when  the  peo- 
ple, wholly  without  knowledge  of  metal,  slew  with 
weapons  made  of  flint  the  wild  beasts  on  which  they 
subsisted,  and  moved  from  place  to  place  on  foot,  car- 


mm 


54 


Till-:   STORY    OF   TllK    INDIAN. 


f. 


m  I 


,    :  .,      .  j 


rving  their  siini»l('  possessions  on  tlicir  backs  or  on 
the  (log  travois. 

Ill  those  (hivs  the  seciiriiiij  of  dailv  food  must  luive 
been  a  dillieult  matter  for  many  triln'S,  and  the  lavini; 
up  of  any  provision  for  the  future  doubly  iiarih  The 
great  beasts,  so  easily  slauglitered  by  tiie  rille,  or  even 
by  the  iron-lieaded  arrow  shot  into  them  at  a  eloso 
range  by  a  mounted  man,  must  iiave  been  widl-nigh 
invulnerable  to  tiie  stone-headed  arrow.  The  tough 
thick  hide,  covered  with  a  close  mat  of  fur,  presents 
resistance  to  tlie  keen  edge  of  a  modern  knifi',  and 
couhl  have  been  pierced  only  by  the  best  arrows  of 
that  day,  shot  at  very  short  range;  ami  if  the  careful 
hunter  crept  close  enough  to  the  butfalo,  aiul  his  arm 
was  strong  enough  to  drive  the  blunt-headed  shaft 
deep  into  the  body,  the  great  beast,  iri'itated  l)y  the 
prick  of  the  puny  dart,  instead  of  running  away,  might 
turn  to  flight  the  one  who  had  injured  it.  Often,  no 
doubt,  the  man  kept  out  of  sight  and  shot  arrow  after 
arrow  into  it,  for  there  was  no  sound  to  alarm  it,  and 
it  could  not  tell  wheiice  the  hurt  came;  but  let  the 
animal  learn  the  cause  of  this  pain,  and  the  man  was 
in  great  danger;  for  a  wounded  bulTalo  was  a  terrible 
antagonist,  swift  of  foot,  resistless  in  power,  only  to 
be  avoided  by  the  exercise  of  that  cunning  which 
has  ever  iriven  man  the  mastery  over  the  brute.  In 
that  age  of  stone  the  contest  between  wild  man  and 
wild  beast  was  not  an  unequal  one.  The  beast  was 
the  stronger,  the  (piicker,  the  better  armed  of  the  two. 
Man's  advantage  lay  idtogether  in  his  intelligence. 

Traces  of  the  fear  in  which  these  great  brutes  were 
held  may  still  be  discovered  in  the  tradilional  stories 
of  certain  tribes,  which  set  forth  how  in  those  days, 
before  men  were  provided  with  arms,  the  bulfalo  used 


SUMSISTKNl'l-:. 


.>i) 


to  cluiso,  kill,  and  oat  the  pcnplo.  Siioli  tak'S,  still 
given  with  coiisidcrahlo  detail  ainoii.^  the  lilacixlVct, 
the  Arikaras,  and  otiicr  trii»i\^,  show  very  ck-ai-ly  how 
irivativ  the  hiilTalo  were  droadctl  in  ancient  times,  and 
such  I'ear  could  hardly  have  arisen  save  as  the  result 
of  actual  ex})erience  of  their  i)ower  to  inllict  injury 
and  death.  If  the  huH'alo  had  always  been  found  to 
be  the  stupid  but  timorous  animal  that  he  was  in  the 
later  days  of  the  great  herds,  stories  such  as  these 
could  not  have  gained  currency  or  persisted,  and  it 
seems  clear  that  all  of  these  traditional  stories  have 
some  basis  of  fact  and  are  in  some  measure  founded 
on  experience.  La])se  of  time,  the  changes  -which 
would  inevitably  result  from  the  transmission  of  a 
tale  through  succeeding  generations  of  narrators,  and 
an  imperfect  comprehension  of  the  relations  of  things 
may,  in  a  measure,  have  twisted  and  distorted  the  fact 
or  the  experience;  but  if  it  is  possible  to  trace  the  tale 
far  enough,  the  fact  and  the  circumstance  will  always 
be  found. 

Lonir  before  the  time  of  the  bow  and  arrows  there 
must  have  been  a  day  when  for  these  men — the  an- 
cestors of  the  Indians  whom  we  know — the  capture  of 
such  a  great  aninud  as  the  buffalo  was  an  impossibili- 
ty, a  thing  altogether  beyond  their  power  to  compass, 
and  not  to  be  contemplated :  a  time  when  the  food  of 
the  people  consisted  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  the 
small  animals;  those  which  were  so  numerous,  so 
timid,  and  so  lacking  in  craft  or  wariness,  that  even 
feeble  man,  armed  only  with  his  club — the  first 
weapon — could  circumvent  and  kill  them.  In  some 
of  the  tribes  there  still  persist  traditions  of  those 
earliest  times,  when  arms — the  bow  and  arrow,  the 
shield  and  lance — were  unknown,  and  many  of  the 


66 


Till-:  STOUV    OF   TIIK   INDIAN. 


I 


pnictices  of  tliose  ancioiit  times  have  t'lulmvd  oven  to 
the  present  (hiy.  'I'lie  lilaekfeet  tell  of  a  time  when 
tliey  liad  no  arms  and  lived  on  roots  and  herrii-s,  and 
detail  early  nietln^ds  of  capturing  animals;  and  the 
C'hevenne  traditions  <;o  back  to  the  davs  when  thev 
subsisted  altogether  on  rabbits,  the  skins  of  which 
furnished  also  their  clothing.  Some  of  the  tribes  oi 
the  central  i»lateau  in  our  own  day  secured  their  food 
of  rabbits  and  grasslu)})pers  by  simi)le  methods  which 
are  very  old  ;  and  in  the  ways  in  which  the  women  of 
all  tribes  gather  berries  and  roots,  and  in  which  boys 
with  long  slender  whi[)S  kill  birds,  we  see  the  survival 
of  practices  which  have  a  great  anti'iuity.  'i'he  in- 
vention of  the  bow  and  arrow — the  traditional  history 
of  which  is  given  by  nuiny  tribes — nuirked  a  tremen- 
dous step  in  advance  of  these  early  methods,  and  yet 
even  this  invention  still  left  the  Indian  but  metigrely 
equipped  for  the  struggle  with  the  great  beasts  which 
were  furnishing  him  with  food  at  the  time  that  he 
was  discovered  by  the  white  man.  Old  men  still  tell 
of  liearing  their  grandfathers  sjieak  of  the  complaints 
made  by  their  ancestors  of  the  dilhcnlty  of  obtaining 
food  in  primitive  times;  of  how  often  they  were  hun- 
gry, and  how  constantly  they  were  moving  about  to 
tlnd  regions  where  animals  were  more  numerous  and 
more  easily  to  be  approached.  Often  such  statements 
come  out  incidentally  in  the  course  of  conversatioji, 
or  are  made  to  explain  certain  wanderings  of  which 
tradition  speaks. 

Since  his  armament  was  so  incfllcient  as  to  make 
the  capture  of  game  at  all  times  uncertain,  and  since 
the  etTort  to  secure  it  was  often  attended  with  danger, 
it  must  early  liave  occurred  to  the  Indian  to  devise 
for  capturing  food   in  quantity  some  method  which 


M 


1 


■iiB 


I 


SL'IJ.SlSTKNli:. 


i>< 


sliould  1)1'  nioro  certain  und  iiioro  safe  tliaii  i]\o  how 
and  arrow.  Tht'  problem  wna  lon<^  ponderi'd  over,  and 
the  first  steps  toward  solvin;^:  it,  iiodtnibt,  took  the  di- 
rection of  improving;  tiic  traps  and  snares  which  they 
employed  for  the  capture  ol'  the  smaller  animals,  and 
the  evolution  of  the  pen  with  the  exteniled  win,i;s,  into 
which  the  bulTalo  or  antelope  were  brou^dit  and  eai)- 
tured  whole  herds  at  u  time,  was  slow.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  those  early,  as  in  more  modern  days,  the  In- 
dian's whole  stiuly  was  the  animals  amon;,^  which  he 
lived.  Constantly  en";a<a'd  in  watchin"^  them  and  try- 
in^'  to  learn  how  they  wotdd  act  under  particidar  eon- 
ditions,  he  knew  their  habits  better  than  he  knew  any- 
thin;,^  else.  lion_n'  before  the  traps,  so  suceessfidly  used, 
were  devised  he  must  have  known  of  the  existence  in 
butl'alo  and  antelope  of  that  curiosity  which  made  the 
trap  feasible,  and  which  to  the  animals  i)roved  so  self- 
destruetive. 

Scattered  along'  the  flanks  of  the  Ivocky  ^Mountains, 
and  at  many  points  of  the  great  central  ])lateiiu,  nuiy 
be  seen  to-day  the  remains  of  the  ancient  traps  in  which 
the  Indians  once  took  the  buffalo.  Most  of  the  tribes 
gave  up  their  use  many  years  aijo — soon  after  they  ob- 
tained  horses  and  learned  to  ride — and  all  the  more 
l)erishal)le  ])ortions  of  wings  and  enclosures  haye  long 
since  crumbled  to  decay ;  but  in  various  localities  in 
Montana  and  Colorado  the  plains  are  still  marked  by 
the  long  lines  of  heaped-ui)  stones  ^vhich  formed  the 
arms  of  the  chute  that  guided  the  doomed  animals  to- 
ward the  clifT  or  the  slaughter  pen. 

The  common  method  *  of  taking  buffalo,  by  those 


*  An  accoiuit  substantially  like  this  was  jjiven  by  me  in 
Scribncr's  iMaguzinc  for  September,  lti\)'3,  entitled  The  Last  of 
the  Buffalo. 


68 


TIIK   STORY   UF   Till-:    INDIAN. 


f'i 


'V 


tribes  wliicli  iiiliabitiMJ  tlie  brokt-ii  coiiiitrv  close  to  tlio 
iiKiiintiiiiis,  was  to  build  a  V-shaped  chute,  the  arms  of 
v/hich  extended  far  out  on  liu-  jtraiiie  and  eaiiie  to- 
gether at  the  top  of  a  elilT,  or  a  cut  bank,  over  which 
the  IjiilValo  were  expected  to  fall.  If  theclilT  was  hi;^h 
luui  vertical,  the  fall  killed  orcrijjpled  most  of  the  ani- 
mals, but  if  it  was  only  a  cut  bank  of  moderate  height, 
an  enclosure  was  built  at  the  f(»ot  of  the  bank  below 
the  angle  of  the;  V,  from  which  the  animals  coidd  not 
csca])e  after  they  liad  made  the  jtlunge.  We  may  im- 
agine that  originally  they  attempted  always  to  drive 
the  bulTalo  over  high  cliirs,  where  the  fall  would  kill 
them,  and  that  the  eiu'losure  was  u  later  development 
from  this. 

The  building  of  one  of  these  traps  involved  a  great 
deal  of  labour  and  took  a  long  titne,  but  after  it  had 
been  completed,  it  was  practically  indestructible,  and 
with  annual  re])airs  would  last  for  generations.  A  spot 
was  chosen  beneath  a  cotivcnient  cut  baidv  in  a  vallev, 
usually  near  timber.  With  their  rude  tools  they  (-ut 
down  the  trees,  and  then  dragged  them  near  to  the  foot 
of  a  bank,  and  liere  the  wall  of  the  pen  was  raised,  logs, 
rocks,  poles,  and  brushwood  being  used  to  make  a  wall 
six  or  eight  feet  high,  and  so  close  that  it  could  not  be 
seen  tlirough.  Xo  s})ccial  pains  were  taken  to  make  it 
strong,  for  it  was  quire  certain  that  the  imprisoned  buf- 
falo would  not  dash  themselves  against  it  and  try  to 
push  tlio  wall  down — although  if  at  any  point  it  was 
low,  some  verv  active  animal  might  trv  to  leai)  over  it, 
or  if  there  were  large  open  spaces  in  the  wall,  one  of 
them  might  attempt  to  burst  through  it;  but  there  was 
no  danger  that  they  would  surge  against  it  in  a  mass, 
and  so  break  it  down  and  escape.  While  the  pen  was 
being  built  some  of  the  women  and  boys  were  busy  on 


I 


sriJSlSTKNCH. 


59 


> ) 


tlio  prairio  abovo,  briuLiiiii^ — often  from  a  fjroat  di.s- 
tuiico  on  llicir  l)acl\.s  or  on  tlic  do^  travois — stones  to 
mako  the  rock  i)iles  for  the  cliiite.  These  were  heapi-d 
U[)  in  piles  four  or  live  fi-et  liiuii  and  six  or  eii,d»t  in 
cireuinferenee,  and  were  distant  from  eaeli  otlier  from 
twenty  to  tiurty  feet.  If  tiie  country  ^vas  not  stony, 
clusters  of  hushes  were  sometimes  set  up  in  tiie  ^'ronnd 
in  j)Iaee  of  the  heaps  of  stones. 

Modilieations  of  tliis  form  of  ti'aj)  were  used  by  the 
Chevennes,  wlio  eonstru(.'ted  tiieii-  i)en  in  a  valley  on  a 
bulTalo  trail  whieh  was  in  use.  It  was  sometimes  built 
in  a  grove  of  trees,  both  for  convenience  in  getting  the 
logs  ami  poU'S  to  form  the  walls,  and  because  the  staiul- 
ing  trees  served  as  su})ports  for  the  wall,or,  again,  they 
built  it  under  a  cut  baid\,  whieh  thus  constituted  a  part 
of  the  wall,  and  the  wings  stretched  out  on  the  level 
valley.  Near  the  entrance  to  the  i)en,  men  lay  hid  to 
close  it  after  tlie  animals  ha<l  gone  in,  using  i)oles  and 
brush,  or  poles  alone,  over  whieh  tiiey  hung  robes.  The 
northernmost  of  the  three  tribes  of  the  IJlaekfoot  con- 
federation, and  also  the  Plains  Crecs,  both  of  whom 
lived  at  a  distance  from  the  mountains  and  in  a  coun- 
try whieh  was  rolling  rather  than  broken,  made  their 
pens  on  level  ground  not  far  from  timljer,  where  they 
secured  the  logs  and  brush  for  the  walls.  As  else- 
■whcre  explained,  the  bulfalo  passed  down  the  chute  in 
the  ordinary  way,  and  at  the  angle  of  the  V  ran  onto  a 
fenced  causeway,  or  bridge,  which  led  them  by  a  slight 
incline  up  to  the  level  of  a  low  point  in  the  wall,  from 
■which  they  jumped  down  into  the  pen.  AVheii  the 
last  of  the  band  had  entere(l,  men,  hidden  near  by, 
quickly  put  poles  across  the  low  places  in  the  wall  and 
hung  robes  over  them  so  as  to  make  the  wall  api)ear 
continuous.     Traps  similar  in  most  respects  to  these 


{•,{) 


Till-:   SToliV   OV  TIIK   INDIAN. 


P 


,:    I 


1 


were  used  by  soino  tribes  for  takiii;^  uiibldpc  in  rntlur 
ri'ci'Mt  timi'8;  ho  lalclv  that  I  iuive  seen  rciiiaiiis  of  thu 
wooden  \vin;;M  and  (orral  in  nnrtbwesti'rn  I'tab,  in  I  bo 
country  ran;,''t'il  over  liy  I'lcs,  Cbcyennes,  and  Arapa- 
boeM.  'I'bc  i'dackft'i't  also  raptured  antelope  in  tlio 
same  way,  bnt  instead  of  a  pen  at  llie  aiiijle  of  the  V, 
ibey  du;^'  a  lar;;e  ])it  tbere,  wbieb  tbey  covered  witb  :i 
loose  roof  made  of  .slender  j>oles,  t\vi;^s,  and  ;;rass. 
\\  ben  tbe  antelojK' ran  over  tbe  pit  tbey  broke  tlironub 
tliis  roof,  and  falling,'  into  tbe  pit  were  unable  to  ;^^'t 
out  a'Min,  and  were  easily  secured  bv  the  men  who 
were  bidden  near  at  baml. 

It  mav  naturally  enou<'b  be  asked  liow  tliese  wild 
animals  were  induced  to  enter  tiiese  traps  in  wbicb  tbey 
were  destrove(l  in  su(di  numbers.  It  is  usually  stated 
that  tbey  were  driven  into  tbe  cbtite  and  down  the  lane 
betwei'U  tbe  arms  of  tbe  V,  and  so  burried  toward  tbe 
an^de  where  tbey  made  tbe  fatal  plun',^!  into  tluf  })en 
or  the  pit ;  but  this  is  by  no  means  aji  exact  statement 
of  what  happened.  Ilotli  bulTalo  and  antelope  are  by 
nature  curious  animals,  and  it  was  tbe  Indians'  kiu)wl- 
edge  of  tbis  cbaracteristic  and  tlieir  ability  to  ]day 
npon  it  tbat  enabled  them  to  entrap  tbeir  prey.  JiCt 
us  see  liow  tliey  went  to  work  on  a  inint. 

When  tlu!  bull'alo  were  lu^ar  one  of  tbese  old-time 
traps — wbicb  were  called  "fallin<i;  places"  by  some 
tribes  and  are  spoken  of  to-day  as  "pounds" — tbe 
ilrst  step  toward  capturincj  tbem  was  to  induce  tliem 
to  come  witliin  tbe  dividinLr  arms  of  tlie  V.  In  eacli 
tribe  tbere  were  certain  men  wlio  were  esj)ecially  skil- 
ful in  tbis  work  of  decoying  tbe  bull'alo,  eitber  because 
of  tbeir  great  experience  or  by  reason  of  some  sui)er- 
natural  i)ower  wbicb  tbey  bad.  A  lilackfoot  migbt 
be  tbe  ])ossessor  of  an  I-nis'kim — a    bulTalo  stone — 


.SL'USISTKNCI-;. 


(il 


wliicli  jjiivi'  liirn,  tlir()ii;;lj  some  force  inlicrciit  in  itself, 
till'  power  to  call  the  htilTalo;  the  inemlxi"  (»r  another 
trihe  nii.u'ht  have  soiiu'  very  jtosverfiil  scei'ct  licl|M'r, 
which  would  aid  him  in  his  nndcrtakiii;,'.  W  hatcver 
the  power  he  possessed,  or  however  he  had  ohtaine(l 
it,  the  man  who  was  to  lead  the  i)nlTalo  spent  a  ;r(»od 
part  «»f  the  ni;>dit  hel'oro  he  made  his  attempt  in 
))niyer,  invoking'  the  aid  of  the  special  p(»wer  on  which 
lie  relied.  In  some  eases  hi'  called  in  the  priest  to 
liclp  him  in  his  prayers,  but  (piite  as  often  he  praye(l 
alone,  hurnini;  sweet  grass  and  sweet  j)ine  to  draw  his 
lielper  to  him,  and  also  ])nril'yin<(  himself  by  jiassin;^' 
liis  arms  and  body  throu;!:h  the  perfumed  smoke,  and 
])y  ^rraspin;;  handfulsof  the  smoke  and  rubbing  it  over 
Ids  body,  arnis,  ami  legs.  The  members  of  the  camp 
knew  what  was  to  take  }»laco  the  next  day,  and  re- 
frained from  going  into  or  even  near  the  lodge  of  the 
man  who  was  thus  engaged  in  j)rayer. 

Karly  in  the  morning,  long  before  tlie  dawn,  the 
lilackfoot  num  arose  from  his  short  sleep  and  ])re- 
pured  for  bis  undertaking,  lie  neither  ate  nor  drank, 
but  spoko  earnestly  to  ids  wives,  bidiling  them  remain 
within  tbe  lodge  until  bis  return,  and  telling  them 
that  tliey  must  burn  sweet  grass  to  tbe  Sun  and  pray 
for  bis  success.  Then  be  left  the  lodge  and  climbed 
the  blulTs  toward  tbe  uj)per  prairie  where  the  arms  of 
tbe  cbuto  were.  Some  men  went  fortb  naked,  others 
carried  a  dress  nnule  of  the  entire  skin  of  a  buiTalo, 
tbe  bead  ami  horns  arranged  like  a  buffalo  bead,  while 
the  rest  of  tbe  skin  Inmg  down  over  tbe  wearer's  back. 
He  marcbed  steadfastly  along,  speaking  to  no  one,  for 
lie  felt  tbe  solemnity  of  tbe  occasion.  When  tbe  caller 
set  out,  all  tbe  men  and  bovs  and  manv  of  tbe  women 
of  tbe  camp  followed  bim  up  on  tbe  prairie,  aiul  by 


(12 


Till-:   STORY   OF   Till-:    INDIAN. 


i 


Hi 


twos  jind  threes  lay  down  bt'liiiid  tlie  })iles  of  stones 
which  formed  tlic  arms  of  the  eliiite.  The  ealler  i)ro- 
cceded  on  his  way  until  he  had  come  near  to  jome 
lierd  of  bulTalo,  whose  position  luui  hcen  ascertained 
tlio  niglit  before.  When  lie  was  lu'ar  enouirh  to  be 
seen,  yet  not  so  close  tliat  they  could  clearly  distin- 
<;uisli  what  lie  was,  he  began  to  act  very  strangely. 
Ho  raised  himself  up  so  as  to  be  in  i)lain  siglit,  then 
ducked  out  of  view,  stood  u\)  again  and  whirled  round 
and  round,  hid  again,  and  then  walked  to  and  fro, 
half  concealed.  This  luul  not  gone  on  long  before  tiie 
nearest  bull'alo  began  to  stare  at  the  man,  looking  for  a 
long  time  in  the  endeavour  to  make  out  what  the  mov- 
ing object  was,  and  then  taking  a  few  steps  toward 
him  to  get  a  nearer  view,  'i'his  attracteil  the  atten- 
tion of  others  of  the  herd,  and  they  too  began  to  look 
and  to  move  a  few  steps  at  a  time  after  their  fellows. 
When  the  caller  had  succeeded  in  fairlv  attracting  tlie 
attention  of  the  nearest  butTalo,  he  began  to  move 
slowly  away  in  the  direction  of  tlie  chnte  He  still 
continued  liis  antics,  and  perhaps  also  called  to  the 
buITalo,  JIdO,  hoo^  hoo^  iiti'uh^  ini' iih,  ini' uh.  As  he 
retreated  the  buffalo  followed,  at  first  walking,  but 
graduall}',  as  they  became  more  excited,  going  fasrer, 
trotting  a  little  and  then  stojiping  to  look,  and  at  last 
breaking  into  a  gallop.  As  they  increased  their  speed, 
the  man  changed  his  pace  from  a  walk  to  a  trot  and 
then  to  a  run,  and  so  they  went  on,  at  last  at  top 
speed,  into  the  chute,  the  man  running  on  down  be- 
tween the  piles  of  stone  aiul  the  buifalo  in  hot  pursuit. 
As  soon  as  they  were  well  within  the  chute,  however, 
the  attention  of  the  bull'alo  was  distracted  from  the 
num  Avho  was  leading  them.  For  now,  from  behinci 
each  pile  of  stones  which  they  passed,  on  either  hand. 


\ 


h 


sL'nsi.sTKXci:. 


63 


1 


\ 


'  t 


people  bogjui  to  riso  up  and  slioiit  and  veil  and  wave 
their  rohes.  Terror  took  tlie  place  of  curiosity  ;  the 
bull'alo  wished  to  escape  from  tiiese  iu)isy  and  terrify- 
inx  enemies  ;  the  way  ahead  was  clear  and  they  rushed 
on,  heads  down  and  tails  up,  at  an  ever-increasiuir 
speed.  Yet  still  as  they  ran  tiie  people  ap})eared  just 
behind  them  on  both  sides,  aiul  the  bull'alo  constantly 
became  more  friirhtened  and  ran  faster,  until  at  length, 
the  angle  of  the  V  reached,  they  ])lunged  over  the  clilf 
and  down  into  the  pen. 

From  the  cam})  in  the  valley  all  the  i)eoi)le  who  had 
not  gone  up  on  the  prairie  to  hide  behind  the  rock 
l)iles  had  gathered  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  i)eii 
to  await  the  event  of  the  hunt.     And  as  they  sat  there 
waiting,  they  could  hear  the  first  faint  distant  shouts 
of  those  who  were  frightening  the  herd,  and  then  the 
yells  coming  nearer  and  nearer  ;  then  came  the  dull 
roar  of  the  bulTalos'  tread,  and  then  iit  once  the  leaders 
came  i)itching,  rolling,  falling  over  the  cli!f  into  the 
pen.     All  now  rushed  to  the  walls  aiul  climbed  up  on 
them  so  as  to  still  further  frighten  the  imprisoned  ani- 
mals.    They  grunted  at  them,  making  a  sound  not 
unlike  the  grunt  of  the  bulfalo,  and  by  their  cries  aiuI 
gestures  strove  to  keep  them  from  pressing  against  the 
walls,  or  from  trying  to  climb  over  them.     The  scene 
within  the  pen,  although  as  yet  no  attempt  had  been 
m;ule  to  kill  any  of  the  bull'alo,  was  already  one  of 
bloodshed,     'i^he  buffalo,  mad  wilh  terror,  raced  round 
and  rouiul  the  narrow  enclosure;  the  strongest  dashec^ 
against  and  knocked  down  the  weaker,  or  with  their 
horns  threw  them  out  of  the  way  to  clear  a  path  for 
themselves;  calves,  yearlings,  and  those  injured  by  the 
fall  were  thus  knocked  down  and  trami)led  on  by  their 
stronger  fellows,  or  were  tossed  aside  bv  their  horns. 


<;4 


Tin-:   STORY   OF   TIIH    INDIAN. 


■t  I 


m 


II  1 : 
■  % 


It  Wiis  ji  case  of  j)aiii('  in  a  crowd  ;  only  the  strou'i^- 
ost  reniaiiK'd  uniiijiuvd.  The  Indians  were  alrcad} 
s\varniin<j^  back  from  the  prairie  to  act  tlieir  part  in 
the  slaughter,  hut  before  they  reached  the  pen,  u  <rreat 
number  of  tlie  smaller  bulTalo  had  been  killed  by  their 
fellows,  and  only  the  largest  and  lieaviest  Avere  still 
racing  around  the  pen.  These  the  men  shot  with 
their  arrows  as  they  jiassed  them,  and  soon  all  were 
down,  and  the  women  entered  the  pen  to  butcher  the 
slaiji.  The  bull'alo  that  were  not  dead  they  desi)atched 
by  breaking  in  their  skulls  with  mauls.  I'he  meat 
after  being  cut  up  was  tran.sported  to  the  camj)  and 
the  pen  was  cleaned  out,  the  skulls  and  bones  being 
carried  oil"  to  a  little  distance.  And  now  the  trees  and 
bushes  and  drying  scaiTolds  about  the  camp  were  red 
witii  great  sheets  of  meat  and  white  with  strips  of 
backfat,  which  soon  began  to  turn  brown  nnder  the 
hot  sun  and  in  the  warm  dry  wind.  On  the  ground 
lay  many  hides  over  which  the  women  were  working, 
jireparing  thorn  for  rol)es,  or  more  completely  tanning 
them  for  lodge  skins  or  for  clothing.  Every  one  was 
busy  and  every  one  was  happy,  for  there  was  plenty 
in  the  camp,  and  all  day  long  the  feast  shout  was 
heard.  The  fear  of  hunger  no  longer  opjiressed  the 
people. 

The  capture  of  the  bulTalo  was  the  work  of  the 
men,  while  the  gathering  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth 
fell  within  the  duties  of  the  women.  Among  the 
agricultural  tribes  of  the  North,  sucli  as  the  Mandans, 
Iices,  River  Crows,  Pawnees,  and  in  ancient  times  the 
Cheyennes  and  some  bands  of  the  Dakotas,  the  women 
prepared  the  soil,  and  i)lanted  and  hoed  the  corn,  beans, 
and  S(piashes.  They  gathered  the  crop  and  dried  it. 
The  women,  too,  dug  the  wild  roots  and  gathered  the 


!' 


srnsisTKXcio. 


(15 


Ijcrries  wliicli  formed  so  important  a  i)art  of  the  tribal 
provisions.  For  collecting  roots  they  provided  them- 
selves with  a  stick  about  three  feet  K>n;,%  curved,  and 
sharpened  at  the  point,  shapi'd,  in  fact,  somewhat  like 
a  sackiu*,^  needle.  Tiiis  was  used  to  nnearth  the  roots. 
"When  berries  were  abundant,  they  visitetl  the  patches 
where  they  grew  and  tore  olf  the  branches  of  the 
shrubs,  which  they  then  Ijcat  over  a  robe  spread  upon 
the  ground.  The  berries  so  gathered  were  di'ied  in 
the  sun,  and,  as  has  been  said,  stored  in  sacks  for  win- 
ter use.  Sometimes,  l)efore  they  were  thoroughly  dry, 
they  were  pressed  together  in  cakes  to  be  eaten  with 
meat  like  bread,  but  more  often  the  dried  fruit  was 
stewed  and  eaten  with  boiled  dried  meat.  'J'he  fruit 
of  the  wild  cherry  was  pounded  so  as  to  crush  the  seed 
and  then  dried. 

In  many  places  along  the  llaid<s  of  tlu'  mountains 
the  camas  root  grew  in  such  abundance  that  it  formed 
an  important  item  in  the  subsistence  of  some  tribes. 
After  being  dug  by  the  women,  it  was  subjected  to  a 
cooki))g  process  before  being  dried.  A  large  pit  was 
dug,  in  which  a  fire  was  built  and  kept  nj)  until  the 
earth  at  the  bottom  and  sides  of  the  pit  was  thorough- 
ly heated.  Then  the  ashes  were  removed,  and  the  i)it 
lined  with  grass  and  tilled  with  camas  roots.  :\Iore 
grass  being  laid  on  top  of  the  roots  and  a  little  earth 
on  the  grass,  a  hot  fire  was  built  on  top  of  the  whole, 
which  was  kept  up  until  the  mass  was  cooked.  This 
process  of  cooking  distilled  from  the  bulbs  a  brown 
sweet  sirupy  fiuid,  which  was  eagerly  sought  for  by 
the  children,  who  greedily  sucked  the  grass  with 
which  the  pit  was  lined.  After  the  bulbs  had  been 
so  cooked,  they  were  removed  from  the  pit  and  spread 
out  in  the  sun  to  dry,  and  afterward  i)ut  in  sacks. 


C6 


Till-:   STUKV   OF  Till']   INDIAN. 


i 


SoiiR'tinies  Ijofore  Ix'iiiL!;  'Irictl  they  wcvo  i)rossc(l  to- 
gctlu'i'  in  cakes  to  form  a  l)rcii(l.  Many  other  roots 
Avcre  eaten. 

Many  of  tlie  mountain  tribes  peeled  tlie  bark  from 
('(M'tain  ti'ees  at  the  pi'ojier  season  of  the  yeai',  and 
L'atliered  the  soft  sweet  inner  eoatini;  whicii  lies  next 
to  the  wood.  Some  tribi's,  like  the  Knteiiais  and 
Flatheads,  colleeted  si)i'uei'  i;iim  and  ehewed  it. 

Amonijf  the  tribes  which  lived  aloiii;  the  larirer  I'ivers 
flowinjj:  into  the  l*a(.'ilic  (Jeean  the  irreat  event  of  the 
year  was  the  arrival  of  the  salmon  on  their  jonrney  up 
the  streams  to  their  sjiawning  grounds.  Jt  was  dur- 
ing this  run  that  the  Indians  secured  provision  for 
tlie  year,  and  to  these  })eople  the  salmon  stood  in  just 
the  relation  tiiat  tlu!  buiValo  did  to  the  Indians  of  tlie 
plains.  Sliortly  before  the  time  when  tiie  salmon 
might  be  expected,  the  tribes  gathered  at  their  lish- 
ing  grouiuls,  each  band  or  family  making  its  cam}) 
near  its  own  lishing  stands.  Tiiese  stands,  or  favour- 
able i)oints  for  taking  the  salmon,  belonged  each  to 
some  family,  and  the  right  to  occupy  eacli  was  handed 
down  from  father  to  son.  No  family  trespassed  on 
the  staiul  of  another,  or,  if  this  was  done,  it  consti- 
tuted a  cause  of  oU'ence  so  serious  that  bloodshed 
might  result.  On  the  different  streams  dilferent  con- 
ditions nnide  a  varietv  of  methods  necessary  to  take 
the  fish,  some  of  which  bave  already  been  mentioned. 
It  is  impossible  to  describe  all  of  them. 

]\!any  salmon  taken  on  these  Western  rivers  arc 
captured  by  means  of  the  dip  net.  This  method  is 
still  practised  all  along  the  rocky  banks  of  the  Fraser 
Kiver,  in  J^ritish  Columbia.  The  river,  for  the  great- 
er portion  of  its  course  through  the  mountains,  has 
cut  for  iticlf  a  deep  steep-walled  channel,  and   the 


7) 


3 

o 
H 

to 

o 


2 
J 


25 


to 
to 

:3 


a 

33 


*'||     '  w^mmtmmmw^ 


\ 


!■ 


iif   5 


SUBSISTENCE. 


G7 


i 


salmon  on  tlicir  journoy  up  tlio  stroiuii  f(»llow  tlio 
sliorc,  swininiiiii;  close  to  tlie  rock.s,  wlicro  the  curroiit 
is  least  strong,  and  they  are  njeasnral)ly  lielped  by  the 
eddies.  Alon<jf  the  roeky  shores,  at  t'avonrable  points, 
s!nall  ]>latfornis,  supported  on  horizontal  jioles,  are 
built  out  over  the  water,  on  which  the  iisherinan 
stands.  He  holds  in  liis  lumd  a  large  scoop  or  dip 
net,  the  pole  of  which  is  ten  or  twelve  feet  long  and 
the  hoop  from  two  to  two  aiul  one  half  feet  in  diam- 
eter. Tiie  net  about  the  hoop  is  rather  deep,  and  at 
intervals  of  six  or  eight  inches  is  fastened  to  small 
wooden  rings,  which  run  freely  on  the  large  hoop  of 
the  net.  A  long  string,  passing  from  the  back  of  the 
net  up  the  pole  to  the  man's  hand,  serves,  when  pulled 
taut,  to  spread  the  net  around  the  hoop  and  keep  it 
open;  but  when  this  string  is  loosened,  tlie  small 
rings  by  their  weight  run  together  at  the  lower  part 
of  the  hoop,  and  the  net  becomes  a  closed  bag. 

When  this  im})lement  is  to  be  nsed,  the  Indian, 
standing  on  the  platform,  holds  the  pole  or  net  in 
both  hands,  the  string  being  drawn  taut  and  held 
on  the  crooked  little  finger,  and  with  a  slow  steady 
motion  he  sweeps  the  net  with  the  current.  If  he 
feels  anything  strike  it  he  loosens  the  string,  the 
mouth  of  the  net  closes  and  it  becomes  a  bag  which 
holds  whatever  may  be  in  it.  It  is  then  brought  to 
tlie  surface  and  the  fish  taken  out,  killed,  and  tossed 
on  the  bank.  Simj'le  as  it  is,  this  is  a  most  effective 
means  of  taking  these  fish,  and  it  requires  very  little 
skill  to  manipulate  it.  I  recollect  that  the  first  tim.e 
1  ever  used  this  net,  I  took  five  fine  salmon  in  six 
sweeps.  The  salmon,  nosing  its  way  up  the  stream 
through  the  turbid  waters,  cannot  see  the  man  above 
it  nor  the  approaching  net,  and  knows  of  this  only 


08 


TIIK  STUUV   OF  TIIK    INDIAN. 


I 


If 


wlu'ii  its  iioso  touches  the  mcslios,  iuul  as  soon  as  it 
striivos  tlicso,  tile  net  closes  al)()Ut  it. 

Tlie  Indians  In-^j^in  to  f^atlier  at  tlie  rivers  sonic 
time  before  tiie  lisli  mal\e  tlieir  a])|)earanee,  and  soon 
after  tlieir  arrival  the  dryin<^  sealfolds  are  repaired, 
and  the  platforms,  ■which  may  have  been  dama<,'ed  by 
the  high  water  of  the  spring  freshets,  are  put  in  order. 
The  men,  while  kee[>ing  always  a  good  lookout  for  the 
coming  of  the  salmon,  hnnt  a  little  at  this  time,  and 
the  ^vomcn  are  busy  getting  berries. 

Just  as  with  certain  tribes  of  the  Indians  of  the 
])lains  the  bulTalo  hunt  was  preceded  by  religious 
ceremonies  and  the  first  animal  taken  was  sacriliccd 
to  tlie  Deity,  so  with  these  Indians  of  the  Pacific  slope, 
religious  ceremonies  and  sacrilices  were  iierformed  at 
the  oiiening  of  the  salmon  run.  The  arrival  of  the 
first  salmon  of  the  season  was  eagerly  looked  forward 
to,  and  its  capture  celebrated  with  solemn  rites.  1'his 
first  fish  belonged  not  to  its  captor,  but  to  the  Deity, 
and  as  soon  as  caught,  it  was  taken  to  the  chief  priest 
of  the  tribe  and  delivered  into  his  keeping.  A  young 
maiden  was  then  chosen,  and,  after  being  stripped 
naked  and  washed,  cross  lines  of  red  paint,  represent- 
ing the  meshes  of  a  net,  were  drawn  over  lier  body  and 
limbs,  and  she  was  then  taken  down  to  the  river,  where, 
while  prayers  were  made  for  a  great  I'un  of  salmon, 
and  for  success  in  the  fishing,  the  paint  was  washed 
oflf.  This  ceremony  was  to  make  their  nets  fortunate. 
Further  prayers  were  made,  the  salmon  was  offered  to 
the  Deity,  and  then  cut  up  into  small  pieces,  one  of 
which  was  given  to  each  person  present.  At  the  con- 
clusion of  these  religious  rites,  all  were  free  to  enter 
on  the  fishing. 

The  omission  of  this  ceremony  with  the  accompany- 


9 


srnsisTKXcK. 


«;<) 


I 


iiii,'  saoridpo  was  a  sin  wliidi  was  sure  to  hrijiir  l»ail 
luck,  and  anioiiij  oiu;  of  tlio  FrasiT  ll'iwr  trihcs  tlicro 
is  a  story  wliidi  sliows  how  suoli  sacrilc/^'o  was  pim- 
islu'd.     .Fiist  Ik'Iow  tlie  canon  on  tliu  Frascr,  and  near 
tlio  town  of  Vale  in  British  Cohimbia,  a  «;r('at  roci\  or 
small  island  rises  from  the  middle  of  the  river,  divid- 
iii^^  the  current  into  two  streams  of  nearly  e(jual  vol- 
uini'.     It  is  said  that  lon^,'  a<;o  this  rock  was  not  there. 
(Jnce,  when  the  people  <;athered  for  the  lishinfjf,  they 
were  very  hnn;,n-y.    All  their  dried  tish  had  been  eaten, 
their  hunters  had  had  no  luck,  no  berries  had  f,n'own 
that  year.     It  was  a  hard   time,  and  the  })eople  were 
starvin,l,^     'i'hey  camped  here,  looking  for  the  coming 
of  the  lish,  which  shouhl  bring  them  plenty  and  con- 
tentment.    It  was  a  woman  who  caught  the  (irst  lish, 
and  she  at  first  intended  to  take  it  to  the  ])riest,  as  sluf 
(Might  to  have  done,  but  she  was  verv  hunirrv,  and 
instead  of  doing  this  she  determined  to  say  nothiiif' 
about  the  matter  and   devoured   the  lish.      For  this 
crime  the  Deity  changed  her  into  a  great  rock  and 
threw  it  into  the  middle  of  the  river,  where  we  see  it 
now,  to  stand  there  always,  as  a  warning  to  tlio  peo- 
ple.    Some  believe  that  this  woman,  though  changed 
to  stone,  can  still  think  and  feel,  and  that  each  year 
she  is  obliged  to  bear  the  pain  of  seeing  re-enacted  all 
about  her  the  events  in  which,  as  a  child,  a  young  girl, 
and  then  as  a  mother,  she  had  often  taken  part.    Each 
year,  too,  she  sees  her  people  change  their  habits,  each 
year  perceives  their  numbers  growing  less,  and  the 
land   that  was   once  all  their  own  passing  into  the 
hands  of  strangers  to  her  race  and  to  the  soil. 

Silently  and  with  the  firm  endurance  of  her  race 
she  has  borne  her  punishment,  but  the  end  of  her  suf- 
ferings is  at  hanJ.     Already  the  thunder  of  the  white 


70 


TllK  STORY   UK  TMK   INDIAN. 


iiniirs  bliistin*,'  lia.s  shaken  licr,  alivudy  tlic  scroaiii  of 
tilt!  locomotive  and  the  rattle  of  padille  wheels  have 
Kouiuletl  all  ahout  her.  SoJiie  day  an  eiiteri»risiii;;  eii- 
f^iueer,  who  wishes  to  improve  the  navi<,'ation  of  the 
Fraser,  will  introduce  u  charge  of  dynamite  into  u 
crevice  of  the  rock,  and  the  poor  sinner,  whose  penance 
1ms  surely  hy  this  time  expiated  her  crime,  will  pass 
from  the  sight  of  men  and  at  lust  find  rest. 


CHAITKR   V. 


HIS    IHNTINCJ. 


Tt  Wiis  stnnrnor — tlio  tinu'  of  ripciiiii!^'  berries — and 
tho  women  were  l)iisy  ^'iitlieriii^  tlie  fruit  aiul  <lrviii<; 
it  for  winter  use.  Kaeii  niornin^jf  little  eonipanies  of 
women,  youn*;  and  old,  mounted  their  horses  and  set 
out  np  or  down  the  stream  or  over  the  hlulTs  to  tiu; 
prairie,  to  the  plaees  where  many  berries  <;row.  With 
tiiem  went  some  man — a  husband  or  a  close  relation — 
who  kept  watch  for  them,  while  they  worked,  sittin<( 
on  tho  top  of  some  hif]fh  hill  where  lie  ccmld  overlook 
tho  country,  and  ^nvo  timely  warninf;  if  any  enemy 
should  appear.  Down  in  tho  brush  the  women  were 
soon  busy,  breakin<j:  otT  great  branches  laden  with  ripe 
fruit,  and  beatinf^  them  over  a  robe  spread  on  the 
ground,  until  many  had  been  gathered  and  ])ut  in  the 
parfleches  and  loaded  on  the  horses,  and  all  the  while 
they  talked  and  joked  and  laughed. 

Sometimes  they  might  come  to  where  a  bear  had 
been  gathering  berries  too,  and  then  the  laughter  and 
the  talk  would  suddenly  cease,  and  perhaps  they  came 
out  of  the  bushes  a  good  deal  scared,  and  that  day 
gathered  no  more  fruit.  Sometimes  from  the  top  of 
the  hill  where  he  sat,  the  man  might  signal  that  he 
saw  people  coming,  and  then  all  the  women  would 
quickly  gather  up  their  things  and  mount  their  horses 
and  hurry  toward  the  camp.     And  if  the  people  were 

71 


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72 


Till-:   STUKY   OF   Till-:   INDIAN. 


I     ■ 


enemies  they  eliiised  the  women,  anil  pei']mi)s  caiiglit 
luid  killed  some. 

Other  women  went  to  the  ])iit('hes  where  the  eunuis 
grows,  and  with  their  long  crooked  root  diggers  un- 
earthed great  piles  of  the  roots.  The  pits  were  dug 
and  tires  huilt  in  them  until  the  dirt  all  about  was  hot, 
and  then  tlie  pits  were  lined  with  grass  and  wliite  sage 
and  the  roots  flung  in  and  covered  up.  Then  tires 
were  built  over  the  pits,  and  old  women,  staying  by 
them,  kept  them  burning  for  two  or  three  days  till  the 
roots  were  cooked.  Then  came  the  uncovering,  the 
gathering  of  the  eager  children  to  suck  the  sweet  sirup 
from  the  grass  and  weeds,  and  the  spreading  out  of 
the  roots  in  the  sun.  AVhen  these,  too,  were  dried  and 
stored  away  for  the  winter,  many  sacks  and  parlleclies 
of  roots  and  dried  sarvis  berries  and  bull  berries  and 
pounded  choke  cherries  were  stored  in  the  h)dges. 

For  some  time  the  buffalo  liad  not  been  close  by. 
'Vho  people  had  eaten  all  their  fresh  meat,  but  they 
still  had  plenty  of  good  dried  meat  aiul  backfat  and 
tongues;  so  they  were  living  well.  Kow,  the  buffalo 
had  come  again,  and  two  young  men,  scouting  about 
over  the  prairie  to  see  what  they  could  discover,  had 
found  a  large  herd  by  a  little  stream  in  a  wide  flat 
with  hills  all  about  it.  They  had  not  frightened 
them,  nor  tried  to  kill  even  a  single  heifer,  but  had 
gone  carefully  arouiul  them,  and  hurried  back  to  the 
camp  to  tell  the  chiefs  what  they  had  seen  ;  for  these 
were  young  men  of  good  sense,  whose  hearts  were 
right. 

When  the  people  heard  that  the  buffalo  had  been 
seen,  they  all  talked  about  it  and  wondered  what  the 
chiefs  would  order  to  be  done  and  all  hoi)ed  that  it 
would  be  decided  to  chase  clie  buffalo.     When  the 


.,.  ,11 


HIS   HUNTING. 


73 


cliiof  k'anu'd  tliiit  this  food  was  near,  lie  asked  the 
priests  what  tlieir  oiiinion  was  al)oiit  tlie  matter — uliat 
ought  to  be  done.  And  when  the  priests  said  that 
tiie  signs  Averc  riglit,  and  that  tliey  would  liave  good 
luck,  the  chief  gave  the  order  that  the  next  day  they 
should  chase  the  bulTalo  and  trv  to  kill  nlentv  of  them. 
Then  everybody  was  glad. 

►So  the  peoide  made  ready  for  the  killing  on  the 
morrow.  All  the  running  horses  were  brought  in  and 
tied  up,  and  the  women  had  their  jiack  horses  close  by 
the  camp,  where  they  could  catch  them  in  a  little 
while.  Every  man  had  looked  over  liis  arms  to  see 
that  his  bowstring  was  right,  that  all  his  arrows  were 
straight  and  strong,  and  the  points  well  sharj)ened. 
Some  young  boys,  who  were  now  to  make  their  first 
hunt,  were  excited,  and  each  was  woiulering  what 
would  happen  to  him,  and  whether  he  would  kill  a 
bulTalo,  and  was  lioj>ing  that  he  might  act  so  that  his 
father  and  his  relations  would  jtraise  him  and  say  that 
he  had  done  well. 

Many  of  the  men  prayed  almost  all  night,  asking 
that  they  might  have  good  luck  ;  that  their  horses 
might  be  sure-footed  and  not  fall  with  them,  and 
might  bo  swift  to  overtake  the  fastest  of  the  cows  ; 
that  they  themselves  might  have  good  sight  to  aim 
the  arrow,  and  that  their  arms  might  be  strong  to 
draw  the  bow,  so  that  they  would  kill  much  meat. 
They  smoked  and  burned  sweet  grass  and  sweet  pine 
to  purify  themselves.  Other  men,  having  told  their 
wives  to  call  them  before  the  first  light  appeared  in 
the  east,  slept  all  through  the  short  night. 

So  now,  the  day  of  the  buffalo  killing  had  come. 
This  morning  every  one  arose  very  early,  and  when 
the  time  came,  all  the  men,  except  those  too  old  to 


74 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


t;: 


riilc  and  the  few  so  poor  tluit  they  Imd  no  liorse.s,  rode 
up  on  tlie  pruirie  before  the  day  broke.  Jiaek  in  the 
camp,  many  smokeholes  were  sending  up  sliowers  of 
sparks,  and  a  red  glow  came  from  some  open  door- 
ways; but  in  front  of  tliem  the  prairie  was  dark,  and 
only  toward  the  cast  could  the  hills  and  buttes  be  seen 
dimly  standing  against  the  pale  rim  of  the  horizon. 

The  eastern  sky  was  beginning  to  grow  light,  and 
the  stars  dim ;  the  air  Avas  cool  with  the  chill  that 
comes  before  the  dawn,  and  there  was  no  sound  ex- 
cept the  dull  murmur  of  many  hoof  beats  upon  the 
prairie  as  man  after  man  rode  up  and  joined  the 
others,  until  almost  all  wore  there  and  they  started 
awav. 

Some  of  the  men  have  saddles  of  antel()})e  skin, 
padded  with  hair,  but  most  ride  without  saddles,  and 
each  horse  is  guided  by  a  long  rawhide  line,  one  end 
of  which  is  knotted  about  his  jaw,  while  the  other 
drags  on  the  ground.  The  meii  wear  only  breech- 
clouts  and  moccasins,  and  carry  their  bows  and  arrows 
in  their  hands.  The  few  who  use  guns  have  the  pow- 
der horn  slung  over  the  shoulder  and  a  few  bullets 
wrapped  in  the  breechclout,  but  each  one  carries  half 
a  dozen  balls  in  his  mouth. 

At  first  the  hunters  ride  scattered  out  over  the 
prairie  without  much  appearance  of  order,  some  of 
them  lagging  behind,  but  most  of  them  well  up  to 
the  front.  Yet  none  pass  a  line  of  men,  the  soldiers 
of  the  camp,  who  have  the  charge  of  the  hunt;  for 
to-day  these  soldiers  are  the  chiefs,  and  everything 
must  be  done  as  they  direct.  Every  one  must  obey 
them,  and  he  who  does  not  will  have  a  hard  time. 
They  will  whip  him  with  their  quirts,  and,  if  he  shall 
do  something  very  bad,  may  destroy  his  property,  cut 


I  i 


HIS  HUNTING. 


75 


1 

i  > 


up  liirf  loilgo,  break  the  poles,  and  do  much  liarni ; 
hut  everv  one  knows  liow  lie  ou<;ht  to  live,  and  if  he 
docs  not  observe  the  laws  of  the  camp,  he  knows  what 
he  may  expect.  So  the  soldiers  ride  ahead  of  tlie 
hunters,  slowly,  keeping  back  those  who  wish  to  hun-y 
ahead,  giving  time  for  those  who  are  late  or  who  have 
slow  horses  to  catch  up,  so  that,  when  the  word  shall 
be  given  to  charge  the  bulTalo,  each  one  may  have  an 
equal  chance  to  do  his  best. 

Thev  ride  on  slowlv,  in  a  loose  bodv,  some  hun- 
dreds  in  all,  going  no  faster  than  the  soldiers  who  ride 
before  them.  Now  and  then,  men  who  have  been  late 
in  leaving  the  camp  come  rapidly  up  from  behind, 
and  then  settle  down  into  the  slow  gallop  of  the  lead- 
ers. By  this  time  the  sun  is  rising  and  Hooding 
the  prairie  with  yellow  light ;  the  grass,  already  turn- 
ing brown,  is  spangled  Avith  dew  and  glistens  in  the 
sunlight.  The  sweet  wild  whistle  of  the  meadow  lark 
rings  out  from  the  knolls,  and  all  about  the  skylark 
and  the  white-winged  blackbird  are  hanging  in  the 
air,  giving  forth  their  richest  notes.  Xow  and  then  a 
jack  rabbit  or  a  kit  fox  is  startled  from  its  bed  in  the 
grass  by  the  trampling  of  the  horses,  and  dashes  away 
diagonally  to  right  or  left  of  the  line  of  the  advance ; 
or  a  family  of  antelope,  surprised  in  some  hollow,  race 
to  the  top  of  a  neighbouring  hill  and  stand  there, 
looking  curiously,  until  the  rush  of  horsemen  has 
passed  out  of  sight. 

The  men  do  all  they  can  to  spare  the  horses  that 
they  wish  to  use  for  the  running.  Some  trot  along 
on  foot  beside  their  animals,  resting  an  arm  on  the 
withers ;  others  ride  a  common  horse,  and  lead  the 
runner  until  the  moment  comes  for  the  charge ;  or 
two  men  may  ride  a  common  horse,  one  guiding  it  and 


TliK  STOKV   OF   TIIK   INDIAN. 


?'; 


i 


4i 


J    j 

1 

j 

1 

1 

1 
1 

I 

j- 

■J 

l| 

j[ 

! 

1 

1          ' 

|^,j 

! 

the  otluT  Icadiiiuj  tlic  two  runners.  Mile  after  mile  is 
j)asse(l  over  at  a  slow  gallop  until  the  sjtot  where  the 
hulTalo  were  feedin.i,^  is  reaehed.  Here  the  coinj)any 
is  halted,  aiul  two  or  three  of  the  soldiers  creei)  foi-- 
ward  to  the  crest  of  the  hill  and  peer  over.  'J'he  huf- 
falo  arc  still  there,  feeding  or  lying  down,  unsuspicious 
of  danger. 

A  sign  from  the  chief  of  the  soldiers  warns  every 
one  that  the  time  for  the  charge  is  at  hand.  Tlic 
common  horses  are  turned  loose  and  the  runners 
mounted  ;  bows  are  strung,  aiul  arrows  loosened  in 
their  quivers.  Men  aiul  horses  give  signs  of  eager- 
ness. The  horses,  with  i)ricked  ears,  look  toward  the 
liilltop,  while  the  movements  of  the  men  are  «|uick. 
At  another  sign,  all  mount  aiul  ride  after  the  soldiers, 
who  arc  jiassing  over  the  crest  of  the  hill.  All  press 
to  the  front  as  far  as  they  can,  and  iu)w,  instead  of 
being  in  a  loose  body,  the  men  ride  side  by  side,  with 
extended  front.  As  they  descend  the  slope  toward 
the  buffalo  the  pace  grows  faster,  until  at  last  the 
swift  gallop  has  become  almost  a  run,  but  as  yet  no 
man  presses  ahead  of  his  fellows,  for  the  soldiers  hold 
their  places ;  until  the  signal  for  the  charge  shall  be 
given  all  are  under  restraint. 

In  the  Hat  before  them,  scattered  over  the  level 
land  like  cattle  in  a  pasture,  the  buffalo  still  feed,  un- 
disturbed. (Ireat  bulls  are  cro])ping  the  grass  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  herd ;  yellow  calves  run  races  about 
their  mothers,  or  impatiently  bunt  them  with  their 
heads  as  they  try  to  nurse ;  and  the  young  cows  and 
bulls  are  scattered  out  over  the  plain.  All  are  intent 
on  their  feeding,  and  as  yet  none  have  noticed  the 
dark  line  swee})ing  down  toward  t'.iem.  In  a  moment, 
however,  a)l  this  is  changed  :  the  juffalo  begin  to  raise 


I 


JUS  HUNTING. 


i  i 


thfir  lifiuls  and  look,  uiul  thou— eitlicr  rcco.s^iiiziiig  an 
enemy,  or  believing  that  other  bulTalo,  fri^irhtened.  are 
coming  toward  tliem— the  herd,  panie-fitrieken,  tiirnd 
jiway  in  a  headlong  llight.  As  they  start,  the  leader 
of  tiie  soldiers  gives  the  signal  so  long  looked  for. 
All  restraint  is  removed.  The  line  breaks,  all  sem- 
blance of  order  is  lost,  and  a  wild  race  begins,  a  strug- 
gle to  be  first  to  reach  the  bult'alo,  and  so  to  have 
choice  of  the  fattest  animals  in  the  herd. 

Each  rider  urges  forward  his  horijc  at  his  best 
speed.  The  fastest  soon  draw  away  from  the  main 
body  and  are  close  to  the  herd ;  the  hindermost  buf- 
falo are  passed  without  notice,  and  the  men  press  for- 
ward to  roach  the  cows  and  young  animals  which  lead 
the  band.  The  herd  is  split  in  twenty  i)laces,  and 
soon  all  is  confusion,  and  horses  and  butlalo  race 
alonir  side  by  side.  Over  the  rough  billowing  backs 
of  the  buftalo  the  naked  shoulders  of  the  men  show 
brown  and  glistening,  and  his  long  black  hair  Hies 
out  far  behind  each  rider,  rising  and  falling  with  his 
horse's  stride.  The  lithe  bodies  swing  and  bend,  and 
the  arms  move  as  the  riders  draw  tlie  arrows  to  the 
head  and  drive  them  to  the  feather  into  the  flying 
beasts.  It  is  hard  to  see  liow  those  who  arc  riding  in 
the  thick  of  the  herd  can  escape  injury  from  the  toss- 
iuf  horns  of  the  bulfalo,  now  mad  with  fear,  but  the 
ponies  are  watchful,  nimble,  and  sure-footed,  and 
avoid  the  charges  of  the  cows,  leap  the  gullies,  and 
dodge  the  badger  holes.  In  a  few  moments  the  herd 
is  turned,  and  all  are  once  more  racing  back  over 
the  flat  from  which  they  started  ;  but  all  along  where 
they  Inive  passed,  the  yellow  prairie  is  dotted  here  and 
there  with  brown  carcasses,  among  which  stand  at 
intervals   buffalo   with   lowered   heads,  whose   life   is 


m^^mKfimn^ 


mifmmm 


78 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


i!        ! 


Ililll 


cl)biTij>  away  witli  tlie  red  current  tliat  pours  from 
tlieir  wouiuls,  but  whose  f,darin<,'  eyes  and  erect  still*- 
ened  tails  sliow  that  tliey  are  ready  to  fight  to  the  last 
])reath.  Perhaps  during  the  chase  some  hunter  has 
driven  his  arrow  entirely  tlirough  a  buffalo,  and  the 
same  shaft,  after  passing  through  one  animal,  may 
have  fatally  wounded  another.  Now  and  again  some 
active  daring  young  fellow  may  have  performed  some 
feat  of  bravado  as  to  s})ring  from  his  horse  onto  the 
back  of  a  buffalo  and  ride  it  for  a  while,  at  last  kill- 
ing it  with  his  knife. 

It  is  not  long  before  most  of  the  buffalo  have  been 
slain,  and  the  men  come  riding  back  over  the  ground 
to  care  for  the  animals  they  liave  killed,  each  one 
})ickii>g  out  from  the  dead  those  which  belong  to  liim. 
These  are  known  at  once  by  the  arrows  which  renuun 
in  them,  for  each  man's  shafts  bear  his  private  mark. 

Meantime  he  women  and  children  left  in  the  camp 
have  not  been  idle.  As  soon  as  all  luid  eaten,  and  even 
wliilo  the  men  were  starting  out,  the  women  began  to 
catch  and  saddle  the  pack  horses,  and  to  fix  the  travels 
to  them.  Some  of  the  larger  dogs,  too,  were  pressed 
into  the  service  and  harnessed  to  small  travois.  Each 
woman  set  out  as  soon  as  she  was  ready,  following  the 
trail  made  by  the  hunters.  Most  of  the  children  ac- 
companied their  mothers,  the  younger  ones  carried 
along  because  there  was  no  one  to  leave  them  with, 
the  older  boys  and  girls  taken  to  help  in  the  work,  or 
going  for  the  excitement,  or  because  there  would  be 
many  good  things  to  eat  Avheu  the  buffalo  were  being 
cut  up. 

In  this  throng,  which  marches  steadily  along  over 
the  prairie,  there  is  no  pretense  at  discipline  or  order, 
such  as  prevailed  among  the  men.     It  is  a  loose  mob, 


I 

"^8 


HIS   IIUNTINTt. 


79 


fitruiif:^  out  over  a  mile  of  pniirio,  carolcs^*,  noisy,  iiii- 
piotectt'd.  It  would  be  easy,  if  ii  little  party  of  t'licniies 
were  Ivinj;  hidden  behind  the  neighbouring;  hills,  for 
them  to  dash  down  and  take  a  dozen  or  tifty  sealps. 
But  the  thouj^dit  that  this  nii-rht  happen  oeeurs  to  no 
one.  The  women  ehatter  and  laugh  with  one  another 
in  shrill  tones,  or  seold  at  the  ehildren  or  at  the  horses  ; 
the  shouts  and  yells  of  the  little  boys,  who  dart  here 
and  there  in  their  play,  are  continuous  ;  the  shrill 
neighing  of  lost  colts  aiul  calling  mares,  mingle  with 
the  barking  of  the  dogs  and  the  crying  of  babies,  the 
whole  making  a  concert  of  high-pitched  sounds  which 
is  almost  deafening.  All  the  women  are  riding,  with 
their  little  children  on  their  backs  or  on  the  horses 
before  and  behind  them,  or  pcrhai)s  inclosed  in  wicker 
cages  built  like  the  frame  of  a  sweat  house  on  the  tra- 
vois,  and  only  those  lads  go  on  foot  who  are  old  enough 
to  have  escaped  from  woman's  care,  but  are  yet  too 
young  to  hunt. 

When  the  head  of  the  disorderly  procession  reaches 
the  crest  of  the  hill  above  the  killing  ground  a  change 
is  see.i  in  the  actions  of  the  women  and  children. 
They  call  out  joyfully  at  the  sight  of  the  carcasses, 
and  hurry  down  to  the  flat.  As  the  women  recognise 
the  men,  scattered  about  skinning  and  cutting  up  the 
buffalo,  each  one  hurries  toward  her  husband  or  near 
relation  to  help  him.  The  boys,  excited  by  their  sur- 
roundings, catch  the  spirit  of  their  elders,  and  shoot 
their  blunt  arrows  against  the  carcasses. 

Indians  are  expert  butchers,  and  it  does  not  take 
long  for  them  to  skin  the  bulTalo.  The  hide  is  drawn 
to  one  side,  and  the  meat  rapidly  cut  from  the  bones ; 
then  the  visceral  cavity  is  opened,  the  long  intestine  is 
taken  out,  emptied  of  its  contents,  and  rolled  up  ;  the 


S(l 


tin:  story  of  tiik  indiax. 


I 


k 

t,i: 


I  , 


painich  is  opojicd,  ciiipticMl,  and  ])ut  usldo  witli  tlio 
livrrand  licari;  tlio  skull  is  sinasiicd  in  anil  the  drains 
removed,  and,  of  course,  the  tongue  is  saved.  N'ery 
likely  tlie  liver  is  ent  up  on  the  spot,  and,  after  being 
sprinkled  with  tliegall,  is  eaten  raw;  women  and  chil- 
dren tear  oil  and  eagerly  devour  himj)s  of  the  sweet 
wiiitc  fat  wliieli  clings  to  the  outside  of  the  intestine. 
All  are  jolly  and  good  iiatured,  tliough  luird  at  work, 
and  the  children  ])lay  merrily  about.  'J'he  old  and 
steady  pack  liorscs  gra^-.o  near  at  hand,  while  tlio 
voujijjjer  and  wild  ones  are  made  fast  to  tlie  horns 
of  tiie  dead  bulTalo.  The  camp  dogs  gorge  tliemselves 
on  the  rejected  portions,  and  gnaw  at  tlie  strip})ed 
skeletons.  When  work  on  a  bulTalo  is  finished,  the 
hide,  hair  side  down,  is  thrown  on  a  horse,  on  this  the 
meat  is  ])a('ked  ;  the  ends  of  the  liidc  are  then  turned 
up,  and  the  whole  is  lashed  in  place  by  lariats.  'I'hen 
the  party  moves  on  to  look  for  another  bud'alo  killed 
by  an  arrow  ])elonging  to  their  lodge. 

Before  long,  boys,  girls,  and  women,  young  and  old, 
are  clind)ing  the  blulfs  toward  the  camp,  leading  the 
laden  pack  horses,  which  not  only  carry  heavy  loads 
on  their  backs,  but  also  drag  as  mnch  more  meat  on 
the  travels  behind  them.  On  reaching  camp,  the  loads 
are  taken  olT,  the  hides  are  folded  np,  and  some  of  the 
meat  is  cut  into  thin  sheets  and  hung  on  the  drving 
scaffolds,  while  the  choicer  parts  are  jdaced  in  the 
lodge.  When  this  has  been  done  the  hides  are  spread 
out  on  the  ground,  and  the  women,  aimed  with  llesli- 
crs  of  stone  or  bone,  begin  to  cleanse  them  of  all  the 
flesh,  fat,  and  blood  that  clings  to  them.  All  through 
the  day  the  loads  come  into  camp,  and  the  scene  is 
one  of  bustle  and  hard  work.  The  men  who  have  re- 
turned sit  in  the  shade  and  talk  over  the  incidents  of 


2  J 


1. 


ms  m'NTiNr,. 


81 


^ 


tlu'  liiml  ;  iidiifiriitioii  is  cxprcssrd  for  tin'  skill  ami 
Idjivcry  (if  one  iiiaii,  whiK'  uiiotluT,  to  wliom  some  iih- 
Biird  accident  has  liappeiieil,  is  unniereit'uliy  lan^'iied 
at  by  liis  fellows.  Jf  some  umisiial  biilTalo — one  that 
is  spotti'd  or  roan— has  l)een  killed,  its  skin  is  tiie  cen- 
tre of  a  ^M'oup  of  the  men,  atul  the  priests  and  doctors 
are  asked  what  this  portends,  whetiier  it  i)romiaes  good 
hick  or  ]}ad  to  slayer  and  camp. 

As  evening  (h-aws  on  the  feast  shout  bcLriiis  to  bo 
lieard  from  all  sides,  the  women  lay  aside  their  tasks 
and  i)re])are  the  eveninf?  meal.  The  feasters  <:;ather  in 
various  lod.Lres,  and  jn'ople  are  constantly  passin<j;  to 
and  fro.  At  one  or  two  i»oints  witiun  the  circle  of 
the  lod<;es,  some  vounj^  men  and  bovs  liave  built  lires 
in  the  o[)en  air,  and  before  each  of  these  a  g^reat  side 
of  fat  bulTalo  ribs  is  roastin<i:,  propi)ed  upon  two  <j:reen 
Cottonwood  sticks,  while  the  lads  lounge  about  the  tire 
waitin.ijj  for  the  meat  to  cook.  When  at  last  it  is  done, 
they  shear  ofT  the  loni,^  ril)s  one  after  another,  and  with 
knives  aiul  strong  white  teeth  strip  from  the  bones  the 
jui'cy  flesh. 

Every  one  rejoices  in  the  abundance  of  food.  Song 
and  dance  and  light-hearted  talk  are  heard  on  every 
side,  and  so  the  night  wears  on. 

Such  was  a  day's  hunting  when  were  killed  the 
buffalo,  the  main  support  of  the  peoi)le.  The  smaller 
aninuds  were  necessarily  hunted  in  a  different  way, 
and  deer,  elk,  sheep,  and  antelope  were  stalked  and 
shot  singly  with  arrows.  If  skins  for  war  shirts  are 
needed  by  a  chief's  wife,  she  tells  her  liusband  and  ho 
kills  them. 

In  the  morning  early,  while  the  first  meal  is  being 
eaten,  the  chief  directs  a  young  man — his  son  or  a 
servant — to  go  and  bring  in  certain  horses.     The  boy 


■■■pi 


82 


THE  STORY  OV  TIIK   INDIAN. 


'■I 

I''    t 


;!! 


1: 


Imstily  swallows  liis  food,  ainl,  pickiiinr  np  a  i-iwhide 
rope,  starts  olT  for  tlic  l)liilTs,  wlu-iu'c  Ik*  soon  ri'tiirns, 
ri(lin<jf  ono  horse-  and  Icadiiit,'  another,  hotli  of  wliidi 
lu!  tics  before;  tl»o  lod<;e.  Kntoriji<4"  the  (h)or,  he  soon 
uj)j)ears  a^^ain  with  a  lii^di-ju'aked  saddle  and  a  square 
of  hulTalo  skin,  whicii  lie  straps  on  the  led  horse,  and 
before  this  operation  is  ended,  the  ehief  eonies  out 
e(iuijtj»ed  for  the  hunt,  lie  carries  an  old-fashioned, 
crooked -stocked  niuzzle-loa<ling  rille,  which  has  evi- 
dently seen  long  service,  for  its  i)rown  wood  is  split  and 
bound  up  with  thon<Jts  of  rawhide  put  on  green  and 
allowed  to  dry.  lie  slips  the  arm  into  a  fringed  buck- 
skin gun  case  as  he  comes  out.  His  balls  and  patches 
are  carried  in  a  Hat  beaded  buckskin  j)ouch,  wliich 
hangs  over  the  shoulder  bv  a  broad  belt  of  dressed  elk 
skin  ;  the  powder  is  in  a  st()ppered  cow's  horn  hanging 
from  the  other  shoulder,  while  the  caps  are  in  a  little 
circular  rawhide  box,  hung  from  the  neck  by  a  buck- 
skin string.  Hanging  from  his  right  wrist  by  a  buck- 
skin loop  is  bis  quirt,  the  liandle  of  polished  elk  liorn 
white  as  ivory,  while  the  lash  is  of  i)laited  rawhide. 
Hitching  his  robe  up  over  his  shoulders.  Three  Suns 
clandjers  into  the  saddle  and  rides  oil'  toward  the 
bluffs,  while  the  younger  man  springs  lightly  on  liis 
barebacked  horse  and  follows.  Neither  liorse  wears 
a  bridle,  but  knotted  about  the  lower  jaw  of  each  is 
the  usual  long  line  of  rawhide  by  which  it  is  guided. 

The  distance  to  the  bluffs  is  short,  and  as  the  two 
ride  along,  Three  Suns  tells  his  companion  that  he 
intends  to  go  to  Elk  River  to  look  for  mountain 
sheep,  and  explains  where  he  expects  to  find  them 
and  how  he  proi)ose8  to  hunt  them.  The  bluffs  are 
reached  and  climbed,  and  the  men  gallop  swiftly  over 
the  few  miles  to  the  river. 


'  i 


! 


! 


HIS  IIL'NTINC;. 


b'S 


Sciittcrt'd  over  tlio  yellow  i)rairie  tli;it  tliey  arc 
traversiiii;  are  many  feeding  antelope,  whieh  move  a 
little  way  from  their  i)ath  as  they  advanee,  running  to 
tiio  top  of  the  nearest  hills,  where  they  stantl  and 
stamp  and  snort  until  the  men  have  passed  them. 
Hero  and  there  too,  they  see,  sini^lv  or  hv  twos  and 
threes,  bulTalo  hulls,  but  no  considerable  herds.  Be- 
fore long  they  draw  up  their  horses  by  the  side  of  a 
ravine,  not  far  from  tiie  top  of  the  blufTs  that  over- 
look Kliv  liiver. 

lieaving  the  horses  here,  throwing  down  the  lines 
so  that  ti.  ■  shall  not  wander,  the  two  men  crept 
stealthily  down  to  a  point  of  the  blulf  which  com- 
manded a  view  of  a  portion  of  the  river  bottom,  and 
here  sat  down  and  looked  over  the  country  for  game. 

]5efore  them  lay  a  wide  prosj)ect  of  the  valley,  gi-ay 
with  sage,  and  interrupted  only  here  and  there  by 
copses  of  green  willow  growing  along  the  river  and 
the  wet  ravines.  At  intervals  rose  groves  of  tall  cot- 
tonwoods,  whose  straight  gray  trunks  were  crownetl 
hv  masses  of  shining  silvery  leaves.  Away  to  the  west, 
the  broad  curves  of  the  great  river  shone  like  ribbons 
of  silver;  in  front  of  them  its  smooth  waters  were 
pale  green,  while  to  the  east  it  was  swallowed  up  by 
the  gray  bluffs,  which  there  drew  close  together. 

Scattered  over  the  valley  were  many  groups  of 
antelope ;  down  among  the  willows,  near  the  river's 
bank,  a  band  of  elk  were  resting,  and  a  few  black 
dots  were  seen  in  the  distance — bulls  feeding  or  at 
rest.  Near  a  rough  rocky  point  of  the  bluff,  less  than 
half  a  mile  above  them  on  the  bottom,  were  a  dozen 
animals,  whose  white  rumps  made  them  look  like  ante- 
lope, but  which  were  gray  in  color  and  bore  great 
curving  horns.  These  were  sheep.  It  was  now  the 
7 


84 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN', 


,   '\ 


iiiidillo  of  tlie  nioniinff,  ami  before  long  the  aiiimuls 
iiiiglit  be  expected  to  climb  the  rocks  uiid  lie  down  to 
rest  during  the  wiirnicr  hours  of  the  day.  Already 
they  were  slowly  feeding  toward  the  blulfs. 

Tliree  Suns  spoke  a  few  words  to  his  companion, 
pointing  to  the  sheep  and  the  rocks  above  tliem,  and 
then  the  men  cautiously  withdrew  to  Avhere  their 
horses  had  been  left.  ^lounting,  they  rode  quick- 
ly to  a  i  inc  nearly  above  where  the  sheep  were, 
and  there  dismounting,  left  their  horses  in  a  hol- 
low well  out  of  sight.  Three  Suns  threw  aside  his 
robe  and  iiis  gun  cover,  and  descended  the  ravine 
toward  the  valley,  ^vhile  the  boy  crept  to  the  leeward 
side  of  the  bluif's  i)oint,  until  he  liad  reached  a  posi- 
tion where,  concealed  by  great  stones  and  some  lo  v 
cedar  bushes,  he  could  command  a  view  of  the  ridge 
which  ran  down  to  the  vallev.  Here,  witli  a  sheaf  of 
arrows  in  his  right  hand  and  a  bow  in  his  left,  he 
Avaited  and  watched. 

Meantime,  Three  Suns,  hidden  from  view  by  the 
high  ground  on  either  side,  had  gone  down  to  the  level 
of  the  valley,  where  it  was  crossed  by  a  narrow  gulley, 
three  or  four  feet  deep,  from  tlie  mouth  of  the  ravine 
— in  spring  a  water  course  for  the  melting  snow,  but 
now  dry.  Along  this  Three  Suns  made  his  croucliing 
way.  Creeping  on  hands  and  knees  when  the  banks 
were  low,  or  sometimes  flat  on  his  face,  as  he  passed 
some  little  tributary  water  course  which  gave  a  view 
of  the  bottom,  before  long  ho  had  reached  the  point 
where  the  sheep  should  be,  and  choosing  a  spot  where 
a  thick  bunch  of  rye  grass  grew  on  the  edge  of  the 
bank,  he  raised  his  head  and  looked  through  the 
close-set  stems.  At  first  only  the  ground  near  to  him 
was  visible,  but  as  his  view  became  wider  he  saw,  only 


1 


Ills  iirxTixcx. 


85 


a  sliort  distanco  away  and  between  liiinsclf  and  tlio 
blufTs,  two  fat  rams  fiuietly  feeding.  He  drew  back  a 
little,  crossed  his  two  resting  sticks,  took  a  long,  care- 
ful aim,  and  lircd.  One  of  the  rams  fell,  while  the 
other  jumped,  looked  about  for  a  moment,  then 
trotted  out  of  sight.  Drawing  back.  Three  Suns 
loaded  as  quickly  as  possible  and  then  again  raised 
his  head,  but  there  Avere  now  no  sheep  in  sight.  lie 
crept  on  toward  the  i)oint  where  they  had  been,  and 
on  asceiuling  a  little  rise  of  ground,  saw  them  slowly 
walking  toward  the  ridge,  but  too  far  away  for  him  to 
hope  to  reach  them  with  his  rifle.  AVithout  attempt- 
ing further  concealment,  therefore,  he  walked  toward 
the  ram  that  he  had  killed,  and  saw  the  group  of 
sheep,  after  stopping  for  a  moment  to  look  at  him, 
turn  and  begin  slowly  to  climb  the  bluiTs. 

All  this  the  boy  had  seen  from  his  hiding  place, 
but,  thougii  he  saw  that  the  sheep  had  started  up  the 
point,  he  did  not  certaitdy  know  that  they  would 
come  within  the  range  of  his  arrows.  He  waited 
therefore,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  a  long  time,  but  at 
length  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  stones  rolling  and 
the  tread  f  the  sheep's  feet  and  their  low  calls  to  one 
another  as  they  climbed,  and  presently  one  after  an- 
other came  in  sight  close  to  him,  until  nine  stood 
huddled  together,  looking  back  at  Three  Suns.  Then 
the  boy  drew  his  bow  and  sent  a  keen  arrow  through 
a  mighty  ram,  just  behind  the  shoulders,  and  the  ram 
gave  a  great  bound  and  rushed  down  the  hill,  and  as 
he  disappeared,  another  arrow  struck  a  second  ram  in 
the  throat,  and  he  too  rushed  down  the  hill.  By  this 
time  the  sheep  had  seen  the  boy,  and  all  dashed  away 
before  he  could  shoot  another  arrow,  but  he  went 
down  the  hill,  and  following  the  blood  splashed  upon 


m 


aaBHHHBBH" 


,,||""«""|"  •wr^mfmmmmmmmmmm 


I 


I'l    'i 


86 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


the  stones  and  dirt  and  grass,  found  first  the  sheep 
that  he  had  shot  in  the  throat,  and  then  the  otiier. 
Then  he  was  ghid,  and  he  cut  up  the  meat  and  went 
for  the  horses  and  took  them  down  to  Tliree  Suns, 
and  they  loaded  tlie  sheep  on  the  horses  and  started 
to  the  camp. 


•I 


;h 


■'•| 


i 


1 11 


y      «: 


■\' 


CHAPTER   VI. 


%t 


THE  WAR   Til  AIL. 

Indians  arc  at  all  times  prayerful  and  careful  in 
their  religious  observances,  but  they  are  never  more 
scrupulous  about  these  matters  than  when  starting  on 
a  jouniey  to  war.  Realizing  that  they  are  risking 
their  lives,  they  im})lore  divine  assistance  and  olTer 
in  sacrilice  the  things  which  they  hold  most  dear, 
giving  u])  even  })arts  of  their  bodies— slices  of  flesh  cut 
from  arms,  breasts,  and  legs.  A  })riest  is  asked  to 
superintend  the  medicine  sweat,  which  they  take  to 
purify  themselves  before  starting  out,  and  while  they 
are  in  the  sweat  lodge,  he  smokes  the  sacred  pipe  and 
prays  for  these  men  who  are  about  to  expose  them- 
selves to  danger,  asking  that  they  may  return  in  safety 
to  their  people.  While  they  are  absent  he  will  con- 
tinue to  pray  for  their  success  and  welfare,  and  at  in- 
tervals will  ride  about  through  the  camp,  shouting 
out  the  names  of  the  warriors,  so  tliat  they  may  not 
be  forgotten  by  the  people. 

The  Pawnees  were  obliged  to  offer  a  special  burnt 
offering  on  starting  to  war.  This  was  the  flesh  of  the 
first  deer  or  the  first  buffalo  killed  on  the  journey. 
Until  this  sacrifice  had  been  made,  it  was  unlawful  for 
them  to  eat  any  fresh  meat.  The  flesh  of  the  ante- 
lope or  of  the  elk  might  not  be  used  in  this  sacrifice ; 
to  offer  antelope  meat,  or  to  eat  of  it  before  the  sacri- 

87 


II  {,. 


I 


'      i; 


t'     ■ 

■1 

1' 

1 

;      1 

■  1 

k 

i 

88 


TIIK  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


lice  lijid  been  niiule,  mus  to  commit  a  sacrilege  iiiul  in- 
vite disaster.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  tlie  llesli 
of  the  antelope  was  freely  eaten,  and  the  Pawnees  had 
a  great  respect  for  this  species  as  a  strong  animal  and 
one  possessing  great  endurance.  It  had  not,  however, 
the  sacred  character  ]»ossessed  by  the  bullfalo  and  the 
deer. 

If  a  war  party  passed  any  place  which  is  sacred, 
presents  were  olTered  to  propitiate  the  aiumals  or 
s])irits  wliich  gave  the  place  or  object  its  sacred 
character. 

In  their  warfare  two  quite  diverse  methods  were 
pursued.  In  the  secret  raids  made  for  the  })urpose  of 
taking  horses,  the  parties  usually  were  small,  and  re- 
lied for  success  altogether  on  their  craft  and  adroit- 
ness. On  the  other  hand,  when  an  attack  was  to  be 
made  on  an  enemy's  camp  and  a  battle  was  in  jiros- 
pect,  the  parties  were  often  large.  In  the  earliest 
wars,  when  horses  were  few,  these  jiarties  traveled 
always  on  foot ;  later,  the  large  expeditions  were 
mounted,  but  the  small  horse-stealing  parties  still 
went  on  foot.  Two  obvious  reasons  suggest  them- 
selves to  explain  this  slow  and  laborious  method  of 
travel :  Footmen  can  pass  through  any  region  with 
much  less  risk  of  detection  than  if  they  were  mounted  ; 
and,  further,  men  on  foot  cannot  be  tracked,  while 
it  is  usually  easy  to  follow  the  trail  of  horses. 

If  enemies  are  believed  to  be  near,  a  war  party 
travels  by  night,  and  at  all  times  strives  to  move  by 
hidden  ways,  through  ravines  or  low  jilaces,  traversing 
the  country  without  leaving  any  sign  of  its  passage. 
Thus  it  is  not  likely  to  be  detected,  except  by  the 
unfortunate  accident  of  stumbling  upon  a  force  of  the 
enemy.     Against  such  misadventure  it  is  endeavoured 


..I 


THE   WAIl   TKAIL. 


89 


to  provide  by  n  tliorough  system  of  seouting.  If  the 
juirty  consists  of  luilf  u  dozen  or  more  men,  one  or 
two  are  always  sent  aliead  of  the  main  body  to  look 
over  the  country  and  report  if  it  is  safe  to  go  on. 
Such  scouts  move  with  the  utmost  caution,  and  as- 
ceiuling  to  the  tops  of  the  highest  hills,  scan  the 
country  spread  out  before  them  with  extremest  care, 
and  if  the  coast  is  clear,  signal  their  comrades  to  ad- 
vaiuH).  Sometimes  such  scouts  may  be  disguised — as 
in  the  case  of  the  Pawnees  to  represent  wolves — or 
they  may  trust  wholly  to  their  craft  and  skill  in  con- 
cealing themselves,  taking  'advantage  of  each  hill, 
hollow,  and  ravine,  until  they  have  reached  the  posi- 
tion from  which  the  observation  is  to  be  taken. 

Certain  elevated  points  in  the  debatable  ground 
lying  between  the  territories  claimed  by  dilt'erent 
tribes  were  regularly  resorted  to  for  this  purpose. 
Such  a  point  was  the  summit  of  Cone  Butte,  in  the 
Judith  Mountains,  in  Montana.  Here  I  once  came 
upon  a  shelter,  built  of  flat  slabs  of  the  trachyte 
which  forms  the  mountain's  mass,  large  enough  to 
contain  a  single  man  lying  down,  and  overlooking  a 
wide  stretch  of  country  toward  the  Missouri.  At  that 
time  this  region  was  a  great  buffalo  range,  .and  to  it 
]Mackfeet,  Gros  \"entres,  Crees,  Snakes,  Crows,  As- 
sinaboines,  and  other  tribes  of  the  Dakotas  used  to 
resort  for  meat  and  skins.  The  stones  which  com- 
posed the  front  of  this  shelter  were  worn  smooth  by 
use,  and  the  ground  where  the  watchers  had  lain  was 
deeply  covered  with  pine  boughs,  some  quite  fresh, 
and  others  old  and  dry,  and  others  still  in  all  stages 
of  decay.  These  boughs  had  been  broken  from  the 
little  pine  trees  that  grow  on  the  mountains'  crest  to 
make  an  easy  resting  place  for  the  watching  warrior. 


•■»-—P—— tPWWip^ 


mm 


90 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


•  i' 


The  men  chosen  to  do  tliis  scouting  are  persons  of 
experience;  from  childhood  they  have  been  frmiliar 
with  the  prairie  and  all  its  signs.  Thus  they  do  not 
content  themselves  Avith  looking  for  peo})Ie  only, 
'i'hey  scan  the  stream  valleys  to  see  if  among  the  dis- 
tant animals  feeding  in  the  bottoms  there  are  any  that 
look  like  horses.  The  horizon  is  examined  for  a  tell- 
tale column  of  smoke,  and  the  movements  of  the  birds 
and  animals  are  noted.  If  wolves  are  seen  sneaking  olT 
and  looking  back,  if  buffalo  or  antelope  are  running,  or 
if  the  birds  are  uneasy,  the  scout  draws  his  conclusions. 
But  if,  after  a  careful  examination  of  his  surroundings, 
nothing  suspicious  is  seen,  he  signals  to  his  comrades 
that  it  is  safe  for  them  to  come  on,  and  they  join  him. 

As  soon  as  the  party  has  reached  the  enemy's 
country  or  suspects  that  enemies  are  near,  still  greater 
precautious  are  taken,  and  they  rest  and  sleep  during 
the  day  and  travel  at  night.  Meantime  all  are  under 
strict  discipline,  and  obey  without  question  the  orders 
of  their  leader.  lie  is  the  one  among  them  of  most 
experience — their  best  warrior;  no  other  has  so  much 
at  stake  as  he.  All  are  risking  their  lives,  but  he  is 
risking  reputation  as  well  as  life.  His  responsibility 
is  heavy,  and  he  feels  it,  and  is  constantly  planning 
for  the  success  of  the  expedition  and  praying  that 
wisdom  and  acuteness  may  be  given  him.  He  some- 
times has  a  certain  religious  pre-eminence  over  the 
others,  for  to  him  have  been  intrusted  by  the  priests 
certain  secrets  of  religious  ceremonial.  Ilis  young 
men  obey  him  implicitly,  treat  him  with  the  greatest 
respect,  and  so  far  as  possible  lighten  his  labours  by 
carrying  his  burden,  relieving  him  of  work  in  camp, 
mending  his  moccasins,  and  in  other  ways  making 
things  easy  for  him. 


t  / 


THE   WAR  TRAIL. 


91 


ijgff' 


On  his  part  ho  is  thoughtful  of  the  wt'li-bt-ing  of 
his  young  men.  On  starting  out,  he  is  careful  to  see 
tliat  the  loads  whioli  they  carry  are  not  too  licavy  for 
their  strength,  and  all  tiirough  the  journey  lie  tries  to 
arrange  that  they  shall  not  be  exposed  to  danger. 
When  any  occasion  of  unusual  responsibility  arises,  it 
falls  upon  the  leader  to  do  the  work ;  if  any  act  in- 
volving great  hazard  must  be  performed,  he  under- 
takes it.  lie  is  always  ready  to  risk  his  life  rather 
than  to  allow  his  young  men  to  go  into  danger.  Thus 
the  members  of  a  war  party  work  well  together. 

During  their  journey  the  warriors  are  careful  to 
o!)serve  all  the  religious  forms.  It  is  true  that  those 
whom  they  have  left  beiiind  them  are  praying  for 
their  safety,  and  that  in  their  behalf  the  priest  fre- 
quently unwraps  his  sacred  bundle  and  sings  his  sa- 
cred songs,  but  they  themselves  do  not  neglect  the 
ceremonies  in  which  they  have  been  instructed.  At 
night,  when  they  camp,  the  first  duty  to  be  performed 
is  to  smoke  the  sacred  pipe  and  to  offer  up  prayers. 
Not  until  after  this  has  been  done  is  the  tire  kindled 
or  food  eaten.  If  the  party  has  with  it  a  sacred  bun- 
dle, which  is  always  carried  by  the  leader,  it  may  be 
opened  during  the  smoking  and  the  prayers,  and  its 
contents  reverently  viewed.  The  short  time  which 
elapses  between  eating  and  going  to  sleep  for  the 
night  is  devoted  by  the  younger  men  to  rest  and  to 
tlie  repairing  of  moccasins  and  clothing  which  has 
worn  out,  and  by  the  leader  to  an  exhortation  to  his 
young  men.  He  talks  to  them  about  the  dangers  to 
which  they  are  exposed,  and  urges  them  to  be  stead- 
fast— to  have  a  single  mind.  They  must  not  rely  for 
success  on  their  own  efforts,  but  must  seek  help  from 
the  Deity.     Without  his  aid  they  can  do  nothing; 


I 


i^^ 


! 


0:i 


TlIK  STOliY   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


tluu'cforc  tln'y  must  irnploiv  liim  to  i)ity  and  koop 
tlu'iu,  reinL'iuhi'i'iiig  alwavs  tlu'ir  own  wciikncss.  Tlu'v 
must  be  considcM'utu  of  otlicr  liviiii,'  crt'iitures;  like  ns, 
tlio.sc  were  niade  bv  (Jod,  and  hu  watclies  over  and 
cares  for  them  as  lie  does  for  us;  therefore  thcv 
should  not  be  neeillesslv  destroyed.  Besiiles  <dviii<^ 
this  <]^ood  advice,  the  leader  tries  to  see  that  each  man 
before  he  sleeps  makes  a  s])ecial  prayer  for  help.  Jiu- 
foro  starting  out  in  the  morning  the  leader  always 
makes  a  prayer  and  sacrilice,  and  this  should  l)e  done 
by  each  one  of  the  party.  So  they  pursue  their  jour- 
ney until  a  village  of  the  enemy  is  discovered. 

The  camp  was  i)itehed  in  the  valley,  and  from  the 
lodges  nearest  the  stream  could  be  heard  the  soft  mu- 
sical rattle  of  the  water  as  it  hurried  along  over  the 
smooth  stones  of  the  shallows.  Above  and  below,  the 
high  bluffs  came  close  together,  but  just  here  the  val- 
ley widened,  and  on  one  side  of  the  little  river  the 
steep  hdls  scored  by  deep  ravines  stood  a  long  dis- 
tance from  the  bank,  making  a  broad  flat.  At  the 
lower  end  of  this  was  a  grove  of  timber. 

The  bulTalo  were  close  at  hand,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing all  the  men  had  gone  out  to  chase  them,  and  the 
women  had  followed  with  the  travois.  All  day  long 
people  had  been  going  and  coming,  to  and  from  the 
killing  ground,  bringing  in  great  loads  of  meat  and 
skins.  Women  were  still  cutting  up  flesh  and  hanging 
it  on  the  drying  scaffolds,  and  spreading  out  hides  on 
the  ground.  The  camp  was  red  with  meat,  and  all 
were  happy.  In  every  lodge  there  was  plenty.  From 
all  sides  sounded  the  feast  shout,  the  noise  of  drums, 
of  singing,  of  laughter,  and  of  talk.  Sometimes,  dur- 
ing a  lull  in  the  tumult  of  the  camp,  the  sharp  bark 


£ 


r," 


f 


* 


t 

\ 


;.■:■ 


■fl 

o 


mmmmmmmmmmmmfmmmfm 


TIIK   WAIl  TUAIL. 


03 


of  ii  royoto  or  tlio  lioarsor  howliiii,'  of  tlic  \>\'^  wolves 
^iitherc'd  about  sotiio  carcass,  could  be  heard  from  tlio 
ui)i)er  prairie,  and  wlieJi  the  camp  do^'s  heard  these 
souuds  they  barked  back  at  tiu-ir  wilil  brothers. 

Tiic  l'eastiu«j;  ami  im-rriment  continued  late  into 
thoni^i^ht;  l)ut  at  length  the  last  of  the  ilancers  had 
ceased  to  stamp  in  time  to  the  son;:^,  the  last  circle  of 
feiisters  had  bi'cn  dismissed  by  its  host,  and  tiie  ^miu- 
blers,  who  for  hours  had  been  seated  opposite  each 
other,  unweariedly  ^uessin<^  which  hand  held  the 
marked  bone,  had  given  up  their  game  and  retired 
to  their  liomes.  Now  all  the  noise  had  died  away. 
Even  the  wolves  had  ceased  their  howling  and  the 
dogs  slept ;  otdy  the  river  kept  up  its  murmur. 

The  moon,  which  was  already  higli  in  the  heavens 
when  the  sun  had  set,  was  now  fast  dropi)ing  toward 
the  western  horizon.  The  Seven  Persons  had  swung 
around  and  pointed  downward,  and  the  lodges  cast 
black  shadows  that  reached  a  long  distance.  It  was 
the  middle  of  the  night.  In  front  of  the  lodges  were 
the  tied  horses,  a  few  lying  down,  but  most  of  tliem 
standing,  with  their  legs  a  little  spread  apart.  All 
were  alike  asleep.  It  was  very  still,  and  the  soft  mur- 
mur of  the  water  on  the  stones  now  seemed  loud,  yet 
it  was  not  always  the  same,  for  sometimes  it  grew 
clearer  and  more  distinct,  and  again  seemed  to  die 
away  and  almost  to  cease. 

The  time  went  bv,  and  now  there  came  from  the 
brook  once  or  twice  another  sound,  as  if  two  stones 
had  been  knocked  together.  It  was  very  faint,  hardly 
to  be  heard;  buc  if  the  splashing  of  water  had  beer, 
joined  to  this  faint  click,  it  might  have  been  thought 
that  some  one  was  crossing  the  stream,  walking  through 
the  river,  displacing  the  stones  as  he  went.     The  noise 


04 


TIIK  SToItV  OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


Wiis  not  repealed,  hut  a  little  later  there  was  sornethiii;,' 
tit  the  e(l;;e  of  thi'  cut  hank  ah()\e  tiie  .stream  that  hail 
not  heeii  there  hel'ore — a  dark  ohjeet  in  tiie  .shadow  of 
a  low  mv^v  hrnsh  tiiat  nii;,dit  have  heen  a  round  hiack 
.stone.  Sonu!  tiinv  passed,  and  suddenly  a  num's  form 
appeared  erect  ahove  tiie  haidv,  and  witii  half  a  dozen 
(pnek,  iioi.seless  .step.s,  moved  into  tiie  hlack  siiadow  of 
one  of  the  lod^'es.  A  moment  later,  u  second  form 
ap[)eared,  and  tluMi  likewise  disai)peared.  There  was 
jinotlier  interval,  and  the?i  two  men  walked  out  into 
the  li;jfht  and  j)assed  (puetly  down  alon^'  the  line  of 
the  lod^'e.s.  They  did  not  try  to  hide  them.selve.s,  hut 
walked  .steadily  alon<;,  disappearing  for  a  moment,  and 
then  coming  out  again  into  the  nu)oidight,  and  if  any 
one  had  .seen  them,  he  might  have  thought  that  two 
nu'ii  of  the  camp  were  returning  late  to  their  hoim-s. 
At  length  one  of  them  seemed  to  have  reached  his 
lodge,  and  the  otlier  walked  on  a  little  further  aloiu", 
aiul  then  he,  too,  disappeared  in  the  .shadow,  and  did 
not  again  step  into  the  nujoidight.  And  now  hchind 
two  of  the  lodges  in  the  village,  hefore  which  were  tied 
swift  running  horses,  were  crouching  two  young  men 
waiting,  watching,  listening  to  see  if  all  was  quiet. 
The  moon  was  sinking,  the  shadows  were  growing 
longer,  the  light  all  ahout  was  dimmer,  hut  it  was  still 
clear  moonlight,  aiul  one  could  see  a  long  way. 

Left  Hand  waited  for  a  little  time.  With  his  ear 
close  to  the  lodge  skins  he  could  hear  the  regular 
breathing  of  the  sleepers  within.  Once  or  twice  he 
rose  to  his  feet,  about  to  step  around  into  the  light  in 
front  of  the  lodge,  but  some  slight  sound  from  within 
w^arned  him  to  Avait.  At  length  he  rose,  and,  knife  in 
hand,  walked  quickly  to  the  horses  and  stooped  down ; 
but  at  that  moment  he  heard  a  long  sigh,  a  rustle  of 


TIIK   WAR  TliAlh. 


•Jj 


rolu's,  and  in  im  instant  and  wifliont  a  soiirul  li(»  ai^ain 
vanislii'cl  lu'liind  tlic  IimIlic.  A  soft  step  was  licani 
within,  tlic  door  was  thrown  open,  and  a  man  sti'i>[>»Ml 
out  into  tiu'  li;^dit. 

I.cft  Hand  was  lyinij:  '>n  tlu»  jxronnd  in  tlic  I'lack 
Kliadow.  Ill'  lii'ld  his  iviiitV  lu'twci'ii  his  tet'tii,  his  how 
in  ins  left  hand,  and  a  slicaf  ot  arrows  in  his  ri,i,dit. 
Thrri',  witliin  a  few  feet  of  him,  stood  an  oncmy  nn- 
conscions  of  danger.  It  would  be  easy  to  siioot  an 
arrow  throu;,di  iiim,  count  the  cuii/),  sealp  liim,  and 
tiien  disapju'ar  in  the  (hirkness.  He  wanted  to  kill 
this  man,  and  as  he  lay  there  it  was  hard  for  him  to 
resist  tlu^  desire.  Hut  he  rememl)ered  that  he  was  the 
leader  of  a  war  i)arty,  and  had  told  liis  youn^'  men 
that  they  were  to  take  horses  and  iu)t  to  kill  enemies, 
unless  tiiev  shouUl  he  discovered  and  it  should  heeonu^ 
necessary.  It  would  not  be  ri^dit  for  him  to  do  sorne- 
tiiing  that  he  had  told  his  followers  not  to  do.  lie- 
sides,  to  kill  this  man  mi'^ht  brin^  some  of  Ids  party 
into  dan<;er.  The  man  would  yell,  people  would  rush 
out  of  their  lod^^'es  to  see  what  had  haitpened,  and 
some  one  of  Left  llaiurs  young  men  miijjht  be  cau_i,dit, 
So  Left  llaiul  lay  there  and  waited.  The  man  yawned, 
stretched  himself,  and  stood  for  a  few  moments  look- 
ing up  and  down  the  valley.  Then  lie  re-entered  the 
lodge  and  lay  down,  drawing  Ids  robe  over  Idm,  and 
soon  his  regular  breathing  told  thiit  he  slept. 

Now  Left  Hand  quickly  arose,  slipped  his  bow  and 
arrows  into  their  case,  and  step])ing  around  in  front 
of  the  lodges,  cut  loose  two  of  tlie  horses  there  and  led 
them  down  the  stream  toward  the  timber.  He  walked 
on  the  side  of  tlio  horses  away  from  the  lodges,  stoop- 
ing low  so  as  to  be  out  of  sight,  and  the  animals  looked 
like  two  loose  horses  walking  away  from  the  camp.    In 


i| 


mmmmmmm* 


IH) 


TIIK   STORY   OF   TlIK    INDIAN. 


!  ' 


tl»o  t'tlij^o  of  the  titiilu'r  lie  met  liis  mnipiuiion,  who 
also  litul  taken  two  liorses.  Tlicy  h'd  tlie  animals  on 
thr()iiL!;h  the  timber  and  a  little  wav  down  the  stream, 
then  u})  a  ravine  and  onto  the  njiper  })rairie.  Mount- 
ing here,  they  rode  for  a  mile  to  a  low,  round-t()])ped 
hutte.  At  the  foot  of  this  was  a  lar^-e  band  of  loose 
horses,  eolleeled  from  the  hills  and  herded  by  fonr 
yoniii,^  men.  J^eft  J  land  said  to  them  :  "  It  is  well,  my 
brothers;  lot  us  go."  In  a  moment  all  were  mounted. 
The  horses  were  started,  at  lirst  slowly,  but  in  a  short 
tinu^  they  were  being  huri'ied  along  at  their  very  best 
s{)eed,  and  before  morning  they  were  many  miles  away. 

Jt  was  in  this  way  that  the  members  of  a  war  party 
entered  the  enemies'  camp,  when  they  had  set  out 
bent  oidy  on  seeuring  plunder — the  horse-stealing 
expedition  so  commonly  talked  of. 

To  thus  penetrate  into  the  very  midst  of  the  ene- 
mies' camp  required  not  a  little  nerve.  The  success- 
ful horse-taker  must  be  cool  and  ready  in  emergency, 
as  well  as  daring.  There  was  always  a  fair  probability 
that  the  warrior  would  be  discovered,  for  in  a  large 
camp  there  was  usually  some  one  moving  about,  or, 
if  not,  the  dogs  were  likely  to  bark.  If  a  num  was 
recognised  as  a  stranger,  he  had  to  act  quickly  to  save 
his  life.  It  can  readily  be  understood  that  these 
expeditions  were  full  of  excitement  and  danger. 

Curious  things  often  happened  to  the  men  who 
entered  the  camj).  Left  Hand  had  once  waited  for 
some  little  time,  watching  a  party  of  gamblers  who 
were  playing  "hands"  in  a  lodge  before  which  was 
tied  a  horse  which  he  greatly  desired  to  take.  At 
length,  when  lie  supposed  all  the  players  deeply  inter- 
ested, he  stepped  forward  to  cut  loose  the  animal,  but 
just  as  he  was  about  to  do  so  the  door  was  lifted  and 


THE   WAll  TKAir.. 


tr 


two  men  cjinic  out  uiid  walked  olT  ji  little  to  one  side 
jiiid  behind  the  lod<;e.  J^eft  Iliind  was  just  stooping 
to  out  the  rope  as  he  saw  the  door  lifting.  ]Ie  stood 
up  and  walked  directly  up  to  the  door,  j)assing  elose 
to  the  men  who  had  eonie  out,  who  took  him  for 
some  one  belonging  to  the  eamj)  about  to  enter  the 
lodge  and  take  part  in  the  gambling.  He  lifted  the 
door  as  if  to  enter,  and  then  letting  it  fall,  slipped 
around  the  lodge  and  out  of  sight.  Waiting  until  the 
two  men  had  re-entered,  he  hurried  rouiul  in  front 
again,  cut  loose  the  h.orse,  led  it  away  from  the  lodge, 
mounted,  and  rode  off.  Jle  was  hardly  on  its  back 
before  the  loss  was  diseovered,  but  he  made  good  his 
escape. 

Four  Bears,  a  prominent  Piegan,  now  dead,  in  his 
young  days  had  a  friend  about  his  own  age,  whom  ho 
dearly  loved,  and  in  whose  company  he  often  went  to 
war.  This  young  man  was  brave  to  the  ])oint  of  reck- 
lessness, and  so  fond  of  doing  unexpected  things  from 
mere  bravado  that  he  sometimes  got  his  com])anion 
into  trouble,  or  at  least  frightened  him  very  badly. 

Once  these  3'oung  men  came  to  a  camp  early  in 
the  evening,  and  waited  near  by  for  an  oj)portunity  to 
enter  it  without  being  observed.  It  was  summer  and 
line  weather,  and  the  people  were  shouting  out  for 
feasts  and  going  about  from  lodge  to  lodge,  visiting 
each  other;  children  were  playing  near  the  lodge 
doors,  and  boys  and  young  men  were  chasing  each 
other  about,  wrestling  and  shouting.  P^our  Bears  and 
his  companion  waited,  but  the  camp  did  not  quiet 
down,  and  they  began  to  bo  uneasy,  for  before  long 
the  moon — now  a  little  past  its  full — would  rise,  and 
then  the  danger  of  their  undertaking  would  become 
much  greater.     At  length  his  companion's  patience 


■  i 


i 


I   1 


98 


tup:  storv  of  the  ixdiax. 


became  cxliaustcd.  and  lie  told  Four  Boars  that  they 
must  manage  to  get  into  the  camp  at  once.  He  pro- 
posed that  they  should  imitate  the  sportive  young 
men  of  the  camp,  that  one  should  chase  the  other 
into  the  circle  of  the  lodges,  and  that  there  they 
should  wrestle,  separate,  and  then  hide.  The  plan 
was  carried  out.  They  crept  as  near  the  lodges  as 
they  dared,  and  then,  springing  to  their  feet,  raced 
over  the  plain.  They  did  not  run  directly  toward  the 
camp,  but  drew  near  the  lodges  gradually,  and  at 
length  they  darted  between  two  of  them  and  into  the 
circle,  and  then  the  pursuer  with  a  shout  caught  the 
other,  and  they  struggled  and  rolled  on  the  ground. 
Parting  again,  they  ran  on,  and  for  some  time  raced 
about  the  camp,  imitating  the  play  of  the  boys,  trying 
to  get  a  notion  as  to  where  the  best  horses  were.  Kear 
one  of  the  lodges,  they  saw  a  pen  in  which  were  three 
line  horses,  and  they  determined  that  they  would  take 
these  first. 

After  a  time,  people  went  into  their  homes,  the 
fires  died  down,  and  the  camp  was  still.  The  two 
Piegans  stole  to  the  pen  and  began  to  tear  it  down  as 
noiselessly  as  possible.  Having  made  an  opening, 
they  entered  and  caught  two  of  the  horses.  The  one 
secured  by  Four  Bears  was  wild,  and  when  he  tried  to 
lead  it  out  of  the  pen  it  would  not  follow.  Ilis 
friend,  who  was  waiting  for  him  outside,  looked  on 
for  a  little  while,  and  then  said  in  his  natural  voice : 
"Why  do  you  not  get  on  his  back  and  ride  him  out?" 
"  Hush ! "  whispered  Four  Bears,  very  much  fright- 
ened, "  you  will  be  heard." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  the  other  still  aloud ;  "  I 
don't  want  to  wait  here  all  night.  The  moon  is  ris- 
ing."   "  Do  keep  quiet ! "  said  Four  Bears,  and,  al- 


THE   WAR  TRAIL. 


•JO 


ino.st  dead  from  friglit,  ho  scrambled  on  the  horse's 
back.  Even  then  the  animal  would  not  move  from 
the  pen.  At  this  moment  a  man  who  had  been 
aroused  by  the  talkiniij  spoke  from  the  lodge  near  by. 
What  he  said  the  Piegans  did  not  know,  for  they 
eould  not  nnderstajid  his  language;  but  Four  liear's 
companion  called  out  in  reply :  "  You  had  better 
come  out  here;  this  man  is  trving  to  take  vour 
horse."  Almost  in  despair  now,  and  reckless  from 
fright.  Four  Bears  brought  down  his  quirt  again  and 
again  on  the  horse's  flank,  and  it  darted  noisily  from 
the  pen,  through  the  camp,  and  out  onto  the  prairie, 
while  calls  and  shouts  behind  them  showed  that  their 
flight  was  discovered.  Four  Bears  used  to  sav  that  ho 
was  so  weak  from  fright  that  in  crossing  a  gnlly  lie 
fell  olf  his  horse  and  for  some  hours  know  nothing. 
When  he  came  to  himself,  the  moon,  which  had  been 
just  rising  when  they  took  the  horses,  was  high  in  the 
heavens.  lie  gathered  himself  up,  and  creeping  olT, 
made  the  best  of  his  way  home. 

This  same  reckless  friend  of  Four  Bears  once  went 
across  the  mountains  and  found  a  Snake  camp,  which 
his  party  entered  to  take  horses.  The  best  ones  were 
confined  in  a  strongly  constructed  pen,  the  breaking 
down  of  which  entailed  a  good  deal  of  labour.  His 
companions,  as  they  worked,  heard  him  grumbling 
under  his  breath,  and  when  at  last  they  had  secured 
the  horses  he  said  to  them :  "  Xow,  you  take  these 
horses  and  go  off  with  them.  I  did  not  come  here  to 
work,  but  the  man  who  owns  these  horses  has  made 
me  work  pretty  hard.  I  am  going  to  get  even  with 
him.  You  wait  for  me  outside  the  camp."  Ho  went 
to  the  lodge  near  the  pen  and  began  to  remove  the 
pins  which  hold  the  lodge  skins  together  over  the 
8 


i 


I 


luo 


TIIK   STORV    OF  TIIK   IXDIAN. 


door.  Ik'foro  long  this  awoke  tlie  nuiii  in  the  lodge, 
who,  perhajw  thinking  that  some  one  was  jdaying  a 
practical  joke  on  him,  called  ont  something  in  the 
Snake  langnage.  Tiie  Piegan  made  no  rei)ly,  but  con- 
tinued to  take  out  the  pins.  At  length  tlie  man  rose 
and  came  to  the  door,  and  as  he  stepped  out  the  Piegan 
drove  his  dagger  through  him,  scalped  him,  and  ran 
away,  lie  joined  the  party,  and  they  all  got  away 
safe  to  their  home. 

On  another  occasion  Four  Bears  and  his  friend  en- 
tered a  camp  to  take  horses.  It  was  summer,  and  the 
weather  was  hot.  In  one  lodge  in  the  village  a  num- 
ber of  men  were  gambling,  and,  the  lodge  skins  being 
raised,  the  two  Piegans  cre])t  close  to  it  to  watch  the 
game.  After  a  little  the  friend  became  interested, 
and  began  to  bet  with  Four  Bears  on  the  game,  but 
unsuccessfully.  lie  always  guessed  wrong  and  lost  a 
number  of  wagers  to  his  companion.  Four  Bears, 
even  though  he  was  winning,  did  not  like  to  wait  here, 
and  tried  to  persuade  the  other  to  come  away  and  to 
take  the  horses  as  intended  ;  but  the  young  man  be- 
coming more  and  more  interested  in  the  game  declined 
to  leave  it.  lie  kept  betting  with  Four  Bears  and  in- 
variably lost,  the  man  who  had  the  bone  always  win- 
ning. Four  Bears  kept  getting  more  and  more  un- 
easy and  was  trying  to  get  away,  when  suddenly  the 
young  man  shouted  to  the  gambler  who  had  the  bone, 
"  You  have  won  every  time,  but  you  shall  win  no 
more,"  and  with  that  he  shot  him  twice  with  his 
double-barrelled  shotgun,  and  then  he  and  Four  Bears 
disappeared,  reaching  camp  in  safety. 


CHAPTER  Vir. 


li 


FOUTL'XKS   OF    WAR. 

Xo  one  who  was  not  familiar  with  tlie  West  in  its 
early  days,  and  witli  Indians  as  they  were  then,  can 
have  any  conception  of  tiie  difficulties  and  toils  under- 
gone by  the  members  of  a  war  party,  and  to  have  a 
full  appreciation  of  them  one  must  have  followed  a 
leader  day  after  day  for  hundreds  of  miles  over  burn- 
ing or  frozen  prairie.     On  foot,  heavily  laden,  travel- 
ing from  twenty  to  seventy-five  miles  a  day,  blistered 
by  the  fierce  sun,  pelted  by  chilling  rains  or^choked  by 
stifling  dust,  often  foot-sore,  without  water  for  many 
hours,  suffering  for  want  of  food,  subject  to  the  orders 
of  their  leader,  frightened  by  dreams  or  bad  omens 
and  in  deadly  peril  of  their  lives,  the  sufferings  of  a 
war  party,  whether  physical  or  mental,  were  such  as 
might  well  appal  any  but  those  who  had  stout  hearts 
and  great  singleness  of  purpose.     Yet  the   Indian 
trained  to  these  severe  exercises  from  his  youth  up' 
and  coming  of  a  race  that  for  many  centuries  had  been 
footmen,  gladly  endured  these  hardships.     Even  little 
lads,  twelve  or  fourteen  years  old,  or  younger,  used  to 
go  on  those  journeys,  and  were  sometimes  effective 
members  of  the  party.     Even  if  they  did  not  actually 
accomplish  anything  themselves,  they  were   passin- 
tlirough  their  novitiate  as  warriors,  serving  their  ap*^ 
prenticeship,  learning  the  features  of  the  country  so 

101 


102 


TllK  STURV   OF  TIIH   INDIAN. 


I  I 


ii 


lit  . 


It 


W    -^ 


'    I 


that  afterward  they  couUl  j)a.ss  through  it  without 
guide  or  conij)as.s,  and,  by  wutciiiug  tlie  older  warriors 
wliom  tlioy  followed,  learning  also  the  art  of  war  as 
praetised  by  their  peoj)le — that  art  whieh  they  regarded 
as  the  noblest  and  most  worthy  of  any  to  whieh  a  man 
could  devote  himself. 

It  lias  been  said  tliat  the  war  parties  wliieh  set  out 
to  capture  liorses  were  usually  small,  and  that  they 
travelled  on  foot.  This,  however,  Avas  true  only  of 
later  times,  after  the  country  became  more  populous 
by  the  crowding  into  it  of  other  tribes  from  the  East, 
and  by  the  presence  of  parties  of  white  men,  whether 
trappers,  emigrants,  or  soldiers.  In  old  times,  sixty  or 
seventy  years  ago,  it  was  dill'erent.  Then  the  war  par- 
ties sometimes  numbered  a  thousand  men,  and  all  were 
mounted.  Then  it  was  not  essential  to  avoid  observa- 
tion. Such  great  bodies  of  men  feared  no  enemy  that 
they  might  meet,  for  their  numbers  were  sulllcient  to 
overcome  any  ordinary  travelling  parties.  Ac([uaint- 
ances  of  my  own  have  told  me  of  war  parties  which 
they  had  accompanied  numbering  seven  or  eight  hun- 
dred men.  Even  in  later  times,  when  a  war  party 
started  out  to  attack  the  settlements,  they  usually  went 
in  large  bodies  and  were  mounted. 

In  recent  times  it  was  not  very  unusual  for  a  man 
to  set  out  on  the  war  path,  accompanied  oidy  by  his 
wife.  Such  expeditions  were  more  often  taken  by 
newly  married  men,  and  they  sometimes  lasted  for 
weeks  or  months  and  covered  a  Avide  extent  of  coun- 
try. The  woman,  while  not  so  efficient  as  a  man  would 
have  been,  was  yet  able  to  do  her  part  on  such  an  ex- 
pedition. She  was  perfectly  competent  to  gather  up 
loose  stock  roaming  over  the  hills  near  the  camp,  and 
to  keep  together  these  and  such  horses  as  her  husband 


R' 


Ii 


•I 


^- 


ii 


IMM 


FORTUNES  OF  WAK. 


103 


VI 


ti 


nu:4]\t  hvuv^  to  her  from  among  tliu  Io(]<,res  of  tlio 
enemy.  'J'lie  more  diniciilt  juid  dancrerous  work  of 
cree])ing  into  tlie  camp  and  entting  loose  the  better 
horses  which  were  tied  in  front  of  the  hxlges  naturally 
fell  to  the  man,  but  having  an  assistant  without  the 
camp  to  keep  togetlier  the  animals  whieh  he  brought, 
he  could  work  much  more  rai)idly  and  eirectively  and 
secure  a  greater  number  of  animals. 

JJut  aside  from  those  cases  in  which  a  woman  went 
to  war  merely  as  a  heli)er,  occupying  the  i)lace  which, 
If  she  were  a  young  man,  would  be  that  of  a  servant, 
there  are  many  incidents  recorded  in  Indian  story 
where  women  have  performed  great  deeds  in  war,  and 
by  such  acts  have  raised  themselves  in  the  public  esti- 
mation to  the  high  level  occupied  by  the  bravest  war- 
riors. An  example  of  this  is  given  in  a  storv  current 
among  the  Pawnees,  which  is  as  follows  : 

A  long  time  ago,  once  while  the  Skidi  were  on  the 
summer  hunt,  some  of  their  young  men  made  up  their 
minds  that  they  would  go  olt*  on  the  warpath.  They 
started,  travelling  on  foot,  and  went  a  long  wjiy  up 
into  the  Sioux  country.  At  last  they  came  to  a  vil- 
lage, and  after  it  was  dark  they  went  into  the  camp 
and  took  many  ponies,  and  bringing  them  out  onto 
the  prairie,  started  for  home,  riding  very  fast. 

One  day,  in  the  afternoon,  as  they  were  riding 
along,  they  came  suddenly  upon  a  war  party  of  Sioux 
returning  to  the  village  they  had  just  left.  The  Sioux 
charged  tliem  very  bravely,  and  they  had  a  battle. 
The  Skidi  killed  five  Sioux,  but  in  the  fight  all  their 
ponies  were  taken  from  them  and  nine  of  the  ten  men 
of  the  party  were  killed.  Among  the  killed  was  the 
leader  of  the  war  party,  and  only  one  young  man,  a 
servant,  got  away.     He  travelled  back  toward  the  vil- 


uu 


Til?':   STOllV   OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


I   I 


I 


i 


lagc,  and  wlicn  ho  f?ot  thoro  he  told  Ids  people  that  ho 
■was  alone,  tiiat  all  tiio  other  nienihers  of  the  war  party 
liad  been  kilit'(l,  but  that  before  they  had  died  they  had 
killed  five  Sioux. 

When  this  youii<jf  man  came  to  the  villac^e,  the  wife 
of  the  leader  of  this  war  party  was  sitting  at  the  edge 
of  the  village,  working  on  a  bulTalo  robe,  })uttiiig  on  it 
beads  and  ])oreii[)ine  f|iiills,  so  that  it  should  be  hand- 
some and  line  for  her  husband  to  wear. 

When  the  people  heard  that  their  friends  had  been 
killed,  they  all  began  to  cry  for  them.  The  nu)thi'r  of 
this  young  woman  went  to  her  where  she  was  sitting, 
and  told  her  that  her  husbaml  was  dead,  and  that  sho 
ought  to  come  home  and  mourn  for  him  ;  but  when 
the  woman  heard  that  her  husband  was  dead  sho  did 
not  stop  to  mourn,  but  kept  on  working  over  the  robe. 
She  said  to  her  mother,  "  Now  ]  am  nearly  through 
fixing  up  this  robe,  and  when  it  is  done  I  will  go  back 
to  the  lodge."  As  soon  as  she  had  finished  her  work 
she  went  into  the  village,  aiul  to  the  lodge  where  the 
young  man  lived  who  had  just  returned.  She  asked 
him  at  what  place  her  husband  had  been  killed  and 
told  him  to  describe  the  spot,  so  that  if  she  ever  came 
there  she  would  know  it,  and  when  he  spoke  she  lis- 
tened carefully.     She  did  not  cry  for  her  husband. 

Kow  this  voung  woman  loved  her  husband  and  she 
wanted  to  see  him  again,  and  in  the  night  she  got  the 
two  fastest  horses  belonging  to  the  dead  man,  packed 
on  them  corn  and  dried  meat,  and  on  one  put  the  buf- 
falo robe  she  had  just  finished,  and  then  started  for 
the  place  where  her  liusband  had  been  killed.  She 
went  on  and  on,  and  after  she  had  travelled  two  days 
she  came  to  the  place  where  the  dead  lay.  They  had 
been  scnlped  and  cut  nearly  to  pieces.     She  looked  at 


Sioux  Chief. 


in 


V 


( 


vi 


\1' 


,'« 


rollTl'NKS  OF   WAR. 


105 


<i\ 


lior  liushiiiul  and  .saw  tlmt  lie  liiul  bi'cii  s(';il|ii'(l,  uikI  in 
licr  liciU't  slu)  (li'termiiUMl  to  l)o  revenged,  iiiid  slio 
Htiirted  (»u  tlie  trail  of  the  Sioux. 

After  three  (hiy.s'  liai'd  travel,  slie  caiiu;  to  tlie  top 
<»f  a  hill,  from  which  she  could  look  down  and  see  the 
Sioux  camp.  'I'hen*  sho  hid  herself  in  a  thicket,  and 
when  nit^ht  canu;  who  crept  down  close  to  it.  Soon 
she  saw  in  the  circle  of  the  lodges  in  the  centro  of  tlio 
village  a  big  lire,  and  sho  went  into  the  camp  and 
found  the  men  and  women  dancing  around  this  lire. 
The  women  weru  holding  long  poles  with  scalps  tied 
to  them.  They  were  dauidng  in  a  ring,  and  the  men 
danced  outside  of  tho  women's  circle.  Tho  woman 
watched  the  dancing  until  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
which  man  was  the  leader  of  tho  Sioux.  JIo  had 
taken  from  tho  leader  of  tho  Skidi  war  party  tho 
sacred  bundle  that  ho  had  carried,  and  iu)W  had  it 
on  his  back.     Tlu!  woman  know  this  bundle. 

After  she  had  seen  all  this,  she  put  her  robe  around 
her,  and  then  went  in  among  the  women  dancers  of  tho 
Sioux  and  danced  with  them.  As  they  danced  around 
in  a  circle,  every  time  the  Skidi  woman  came  \n  front 
of  the  man  who  carried  tho  bundle,  slie  woidd  take 
the  robe  olf  her  head,  so  that  the  man  might  see  her. 
lie  looked  closely  at  her,  for  ho  did  not  know  her,  and 
he  liked  her,  because  she  was  very  pretty.  So  they 
danced  for  a  long  time.  About  the  middle  of  the 
night,  the  woman  began  to  dance  up  to  the  man  and  to 
dance  before  him  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  she  would 
go  on  dancing  around  the  circle.  At  last  everybody 
got  tired,  and  they  all  stopped  dancing  and  began  to 
go  to  their  lodges.  The  leader  now  wenc  up  to  this 
woman  and  pulled  her  to  him  and  took  her  to  one 
side,  and  then  tried  to  get  her  to  go  with  him  to  his 


\ 


mmm 


J(M) 


TIIH  SToItY  01''  TIIM   INDIAN'. 


I 


h 

0'' 
111 


l(i(l;;o ;  l)ut  tlu>  wonum  would  not  po.  Slio  would  pull 
liiiii  towiird  her,  iiiid  llnuily  li(>  went  with  her.  ,)ii>t 
outside  tho  villa;;*'  they  st(t|tj)('d  and  sat  (h)Wii  t)ii  tlio 
jn'airii!  to  talk.  'The  man  s|Mik('  to  Iut,  but  she  could 
Hot  uiidiTstand  hitu.  She  did  not  know  thi!  Sioux 
]a>i.i,'ua;j:e.  IIo  tried  to  put  his  arm  around  lu-r,  hut 
tlu)  hundie  that  huni;  on  ids  back  was  in  his  way,  ajid 
lu'  took  it  olT  ami  ])ut  it  on  tiic  i^nmnd.  'I'iicn  he 
cau^^ht  her  aiul  put  his  arms  around  her  waist,  and 
she  jtut  her  left  arm  about  his  lu-ck,  and  iioldini;  iii.s 
head  close  to  her  ilrew  her  kinfe  from  her  side  and 
thrust  it  into  his  throat,  over  ami  over  again.  Soon 
the  man  was  dead. 

'I'hen  the  woimm  stood  up  aiul  took  \\\)  the  sacred 
bundle  and  cut  olV  the  leader's  head,  and  went  to  where 
lu'r  horses  were.  She  tied  the  head  and  the  bundle 
to  her  saddle  and  started  back  to  her  villa,2fe.  After 
she  had  travelled  for  two  days,  she  stojiped  for  a  Ion;",' 
rest.  Here  she  took  the  liead  from  the  saddle,  and 
took  the  scalp  olT  it  and  put  it  on  a  pole. 

When  the  wonum  first  came  in  sight  of  the  Skidi 
village,  no  one  knew  who  it  was  that  was  coniinf]^.  She 
rode  like  a  wariior,  for  she  had  the  scalp  on  a  pole  and 
lier  fane  was  painted  black,  and  she  was  singing;  her 
hushamrs  war  song.  '^I'he  peo])le  womlered  who  it 
coidd  be;  but  at  last,  when  she  got  close  to  them,  they 
knew  who  it  was.  Her  relations  had  mourned  her  as 
dead,  but  now  she  came  back  with  good  news,  for  she 
brought  not  only  a  scalp,  but  the  lost  sacred  bundle. 

Then  there  was  rejoicing  in  the  village,  for  she 
■wiped  away  the  tears  from  parents,  brothers,  and 
sisters  of  the  dead.  Now  the  vonng  warriors  were 
afraid  to  meet  lier,  for  she,  a  woman,  had  taken  a 
scalp,  and  they  had  not  yet  done  so.     After  that  time 


i 

i 
'I 


M 


J 


!i 


,.» 


1 


roinrNKs  of  wah. 


lo: 


slit'  was  ahvays  askcil  to  comr  into  the  (•(Miiicils  of  ilic 
braves,  and  she  was  always  wclcofii*'  at  the  (.M  iiuii's 
feasts  over  this  sacred  bmidle. 

It  rre<|ii<'titly  liappeiieil  that  a  small  party  of  hi- 
diaiis  travelliiiir  al)oiit  were  defected,  siirroiiiiile(|,  jind 
surprised  liy  a  iiiiieh  lari^er  lio(|ynf  some  hostile  trihe, 
and  when  this  took  phiee  the  destruction  was  often 
nearly  or  (juito  comph-te.  Often,  too,  a  small  war  i)arty 
who  w«'re  searchin.Lj  for  a  hostile  camp  mi;^dit  ho  dis- 
covercfl  hy  the  scouts  of  that  camp,  and  themselves  l)e 
surprised  and  surrounded,  when  their  destruction  was 
almost  certain. 

Kvery  tiihe  that  sent  out  parties  to  war  has  its 
stories  of  such  events,  sometimes  telling'  of  tlu;  total 
annihilation  (»f  some  little  band  of  men,  and  some- 
times of  their  esca])o  from  the  perils  to  which  they 
had  been  exposed;  how  they  were  siirrounded  by  tim 
enemy,  driven  into  a  jiatch  of  brush  or  up  on  sonio 
hi^h  butte;  how  they  were  kei)t  there  for  days;  of  tbo 
sulTerinrrs  that  they  endured  from  hnni^er  and  thirst, 
and  how,  at  length,  througli  the  prayers  and  the  wis- 
dom of  their  leader,  or  by  the  intervention  of  some 
helpful  animal,  or  the  power  of  some  dream,  they 
wi're  enabled  to  escape  from  the  danger,  to  creep 
througli  the  watchful  circle  of  their  enemies,  and  to 
i-each  their  homes  in  safety.  Some  of  these  stories 
are  very  curious  and  interesting.  The  Prisoners  of 
Court  House  Kock,  published  in  my  book  on  the  Paw- 
nees, is  one  of  these  tales  ;  another  examide  is  the  es- 
cape  of  a  war  party  under  the  leadership  of  Ka-min'- 
a-kus,  chief  of  the  Plains  Crees,  a  tribe  which,  in  later 
years,  was  always  at  war  with  the  Blackfeet. 

Ka-min'-a-kus  was  a  great  warrior  and  a  strong 
medicine  man.     He  killed  fourteen  Bhudifect  before 


1(»8 


THE  STORY   OF  THE   IXDIAX. 


k'  I 


k> 


! 
'J        \ 


lie  lost  his  own  life.  II is  right  cyo  was  shot  out  by 
Low  Horn  in  the  light  when  tiiat  warrior  was  killed.* 
He  was  twice  tossed  by  bufTalo  bulls,  and  each  time 
severely  injured  ;  twice  thrown  from  his  horse,  each 
time  breaking  some  bones  ;  and  had  three  scars  on  his 
right  side  from  lilackfoot  bullets.  It  was  thought 
by  his  own  people,  aiul  even  by  some  of  the  Black  feet, 
that  he  could  not  be  killed. 

Ka-min'-a-kus  spoke  the  Blackfoot  language  per- 
fectly, and  often  went  through  their  cam})s,  and  even 
sat  and  gambled  with  them  for  part  of  the  night,  and 
the  next  morning  a  good  horse  would  be  gone,  or  per- 
haps a  scalp.  On  one  occasion  a  party  of  Blackfect 
surprised  him  with  six  of  his  young  men,  and  drove 
them  out  on  a  small  point  of  land  on  a  lake.  The 
Crees  dug  rifle  pits,  and  by  firing  from  them  kept  the 
Blackfeet  at  bay  all  through  the  day.  Kight  fell,  dark 
and  cloudy,  and  Ka-min'-a-kus  told  his  young  men  to 
swim  across  the  lake,  leaving  their  guns  and  ammu- 
nition with  him,  and  he  would  fight  the  Blackfeet 
alone.  After  they  had  gone,  he  ran  from  one  hole  to 
another,  firing  a  shot  from  each,  until  his  men  had 
had  time  to  get  away.  Then  he  crept  out  to  the  Black- 
foot  lines  and  began,  like  them,  to  fire  at  the  deserted 
holes,  and  getting  near  to  a  Blackfoot  he  shot  and 
scalped  him,  passed  through  the  lines,  and  escaped. 
In  the  morning  the  Blackfeet  found  the  Crees  gone, 
and  had  only  their  own  dead  to  look  at. 

Like  other  uncivilized  people  the  Indians  have  a  great 
respect  for  dreams,  and  believe  that  these  foreshadow 
coming  events.  A  dream  often  inspires  a  warrior  to 
start  on  the  warpath,  and  dreams  which  come  to  them 

*  Blackfoot  Lodge  Tulos,  p.  80. 


FORTUNES  OF   WAR. 


100 


during  a  joiiniey  to  war  are  implicitly  trusted.  Thus 
if  a  warrior  dreams  that  he  sees  the  bleeding  bodies  of 
his  enemies  lying  on  the  prairie,  he  presses  forward  with 
renewed  courage  in  the  firm  confidence  that  his  expe- 
dition will  come  to  a  successful  issue.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  his  sleep  he  sees  himself  wounded  or  dead,  or 
his  comrades  lying  dead  or  scalped,  he  loses  all  heart 
for  his  undertaking  and  wishes  to  turn  about  and  go 
home. 

Among  all  tribes  stories  are  current  which  exem- 
plify this  feeling,  and  most  of  these  stories  condrm  the 
Indian  in  his  belief  in  dreams.  Some  of  these  tales 
are  given  in  another  book.  The  Blackfoot  story  of 
Berry  Child  sets  forth  well  the  Indian's  trust  in  dreams, 
and  I  give  it  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  words  of  the 
narrator  : 

About  seven  winters  before  the  white  men  built 
Fort  Benton,  the  Blackfcet  were  camped  at  the  Cyjiress 
Hills.  A  large  party  had  gone  to  war  against  the 
Crows,  and  had  returned  with  a  big  band  of  horses 
taken  from  their  enemies. 

At  this  time,  there  was  in  the  camp  a  young  man 
who  was  a  very  brave  warrior.  His  name  was  Berry 
Child  (Mi'na  Pokau').  "When  he  went  to  war,  he  always 
had  good  luck  and  brought  back  horses  and  sometimes 
n.  scalp  or  two.  When  the  war  party  had  started  out, 
this  young  man  was  away  on  the  warpath  across  the 
mountains,  and  when  he  came  back  and  heard  what 
they  had  done  and  where  the  Crows  were  camped,  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  too  would  go  to  war  against 
them.  He  told  the  people  what  was  in  his  mind,  that 
he  intended  to  start  off  to  war,  and  many  young  men 
said  that  they  would  go  with  him,  for  all  the  people 
knew  that  he  was  brave,  and  that  he  had  done  many 


(iHjiiijii,  ij  ,1        ^IMIIW 


!5^?iHffln 


mm 


110 


TIIF.  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


great  things,  and  tliat  ho  was  always  hicky  in  war  and 
liad  a  good  heart,  and  in  time  of  danger  took  care  of 
liis  followers  and  exposed  himself,  while  he  protected 
them.  So  he  had  great  inllucuce  in  the  camp,  and 
whenever  he  went  to  war  many  men  used  to  follow 
him. 

At  lengtli,  when  tlie  grass  had  started,  the  time 
came  that  he  had  set  for  leavinij,  and  one  mornino:  his 
men  all  gathered  in  the  centre  of  the  camp  to  receive 
the  blessing  of  the  medicine  man  before  tliey  set  out. 
'IMiey  numbered  many  tens  of  warriors.  When  all  were 
there,  one  person  was  still  missing — Bovvy  Child,  the 
leader,  was  not  present.  'J'he  })eo))Ie  wondered  where 
he  could  be  and  whv  he  was  not  with  them,  and  thcv 
talked  about  it  among  themselves  while  thev  waited. 
It  was  not  long  before  they  saw  a  person  coming  down 
the  blulfs  toward  the  camp,  and  pretty  soon  they  saw 
that  it  was  15erry  Child,  lie  came  toward  the  camp 
and  came  up  to  the  circle  and  sat  down  in  it.  lie  was 
dressed  in  fine  war  attire  of  white  buckskin  with  eade 
feathers,  and  in  his  hand  he  held  an  arrow.  One  half 
of  it  was  painted  white  and  one  half  black.  Its  point 
was  red. 

Berrv  Child  looked  strong  and  brave  as  he  stood 
there  before  the  people,  and  his  face  showed  that  he 
was  resolved  what  he  should  do.  When  every  one  was 
quiet,  he  stepped  forward,  and  holding  up  the  arrow 
above  his  head,  he  spoke  to  the  young  men  and  to  all 
those  standing  near  :  "  My  fathers  and  you  my  brothers, 
and  all  you  people,  look  at  this  arrow  and  listen  to  my 
words.  Last  night  I  had  a  dream.  I  dreamed  a  bad 
dream.  I  saw  an  eagle  fly  from  the  direction  where 
our  enemies  the  Crows  live,  and  in  its  claws  the  eagle 
held  a  bunch  of  arrows.    I  saw  the  bird  sail  many  times 


FORTUNES   OF   WAU. 


Ill 


aroiiiul  tliisejimp,  and  at  last  it  flow  past  the  camp  ami 
otl:  over  tlie  prairie,  and  I  thought  it  was  going  away. 
In  a  little  wliilc  it  came  back  and  sailed  three  times 
more  about  tiie  camp,  and  then  lit  n})on  that  little  liill 
over  there,  and  sat  tiiere  looking  at  its  arrows,  as  if 
counting  them.  The  eagle  did  not  sit  there  long  but 
liew  away  again,  and  when  it  had  risen  a  short  way  in 
the  air,  it  dropped  one  of  the  arrows.  Then  I  awoke, 
and  already  it  was  daylight.  Then  I  got  up  and  went 
over  to  the  hill  where  the  eagle  had  been  sitting,  iiud 
there  I  found  the  arrow  which  I  hold  in  my  hand.  It 
is  not  a  Blackfoot  arrow.  You  can  all  see  that  it  was 
made  by  our  enemies,  by  the  Crows. 

"  Xow,  my  people,  this  is  a  bad  sign  and  I  know 
that  trouble  is  coming  to  me  and  to  as  many  as  go  with 
me  on  this  journey  to  war.  And  now  I  say  to  you 
young  men  that  we  are  going  to  meet  great  danger, 
and  as  many  of  you  as  fear  death  should  not  follow 
me.  For  myself,  I  intend  to  go  to  war,  as  I  have  said 
I  would  do,  but  I  ask  no  one  to  come  with  me.  Let 
each  man  decide  for  himself  what  he  will  do.  I  can- 
not advise  vou  to  stav  at  home  or  to  follow  me.  As  for 
me,  while  my  body  is  strong,  and  while  my  eyesight  is 
clear  and  good,  and  while  there  is  no  white  hair  in  my 
head,  I  would  like  to  die  in  battle.  I  have  many  young 
brothers  growing  up  to  take  my  place.  They  will  care 
for  mv  father  and  mother  when  thev  are  old.  Brothers, 
some  of  you  have  no  close  relations,  no  one  to  help  your 
old  people  if  you  should  die.  I  should  not  like  to  have 
you  lose  your  bodies  on  my  account,  nor  that  your  old 
people  should  mourn  for  you,  and  should  starve  if  you 
do  not  come  back  from  war.  Think  of  these  things, 
and  make  up  your  minds  what  you  will  do." 

When  he  had  finished  speaking,  all  the  people  be- 


n 


112 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN'. 


gun  to  talk  at  once,  and  some  said  one  thing  and  some 
another,  but  all  thouglit  that  the  arrow  the  eagle  had 
dropped  was  a  bad  sign,  and  that  the  8irii  had  sent 
the  bird  to  warn  the  party  not  to  start.  Still,  some 
thought  that  the  sign  meant  danger  only  to  the  leader. 
Jiut  all  the  young  men  of  his  party  said  that  they 
were  willing  to  follow  IJerry  Child  to  war.  So  they 
started,  against  tlie  will  of  their  people,  for  they  were 
resolved  to  follow  their  young  leader. 

The  war  party  went  on,  travelling  southwest  until 
they  came  to  the  Missouri  Kiver.  Here  they  killed 
some  buli'alo,  and  it  was  decided  to  camp  for  a  while 
and  rest.  So  far  all  had  gone  well,  and  the  young 
men  were  in  good  heart  after  their  feast. 

The  second  chief  of  this  party  was  named  Spotted 
Wolf.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man,  and  was  known 
to  be  powerful  with  dreams.  One  night,  they  all  lay 
down  to  sleep,  and  the  next  morning  each  man  had  a 
strange  dream  to  tell.  Some  had  dreamed  sad  things 
and  some  funny  things,  all  dilferent.  When  Spotted 
Wolf  told  his  dream  to  the  party,  he  said  :  "  I  dreamed 
that  I  saw  this  whole  party  lying  on  the  prairie  dead 
and  scalped,  and  from  where  we  lay  all  killed  togetlier, 
I  saw  a  stream  of  blood  flowing  on  the  ground  down 
the  hill.  This  was  a  strong  dream,  for  I  saw  it  all  as 
plain  as  I  see  you  now,  and  I  knew  each  man  as  he  lay 
dead.  My  opinion  is  that  it  is  best  for  us  to  turn 
about  and  go  home,  for  my  dream  has  told  me  that 
there  is  too  much  danger  before  us." 

The  warriors  talked  about  this  for  some  time,  and 
some  thought  that  it  would  be  best  to  go  liome,  and 
some  wanted  to  go  on,  but  at  length  they  all  decided 
to  go  a  little  further.  The  next  night  Spotted  Wolf 
dreamed  again,  and  in  the  morning  he  told  his  dream. 


I 


X 


FORTUNES  OF  WAR. 


113 


"Brotliers,"  he  said,  "now  I  know  for  certain  that 
soinc'tliiiig  bad  is  going  to  happen  to  us.  1  dreamed 
that  I  was  going  along,  and  I  came  to  a  spring  and 
bent  down  to  the  water  to  drink.  1'lie  water  was 
still,  and  I  saw  myself  in  it ;  and  when  I  saw  mv  liead, 
it  was  bare  and  all  bloody,  tliere  was  no  liair  on  it.  ]t 
liad  no  scalp.  Trouble  is  coming  for  us,  and  I  think 
we  had  better  go  back  to  our  own  country.  Whatever 
the  rest  may  decide,  I  shall  go  back." 

Then  Berry  Child  said  :  "  Brothers,  I  want  to  see 
the  end  of  this,  and  I  am  going  on.  If  any  of  you  will 
follow  me,  you  can  come  on  ;  if  any  wish  to  go  back, 
they  can  go." 

The  party  divided  here,  the  larger  number  jxoinir 
back  to  the  Blackfoot  camp,  while  twenty-six  men  fol- 
lowed Berry  Ciiild,  determined  to  see  the  end. 

For  many  days  the  party  travelled  on  through  the 
mountains,  and  when  they  came  to  the  forks  of  the 
Musselshell,  they  saw  fresh  signs  of  enemies,  but  tlicy 
could  not  find  their  camp.  They  went  on,  until  they 
came  to  Deer  Creek  and  the  Yellowstone,  and  here 
they  found  a  camp  where  the  Crows  had  been,  but 
from  which  they  had  moved  the  day  before,  so  that 
now  they  could  not  be  far  off.  AVhile  they  were  wait- 
ing here,  one  of  the  party  was  bitten  by  a  rattlesnake 
and  could  go  no  further  on  foot,  so  they  gave  him 
some  food  and  left  him  hidden  liere,  intending  to 
come  back  that  way  and  take  him  with  them. 

When  they  had  travelled  up  Deer  Creek  lialf  a 
day's  journey,  they  were  seen  by  the  Crows,  and  a 
large  party  of  warriors  attacked  them.  They  made  a 
brave  stand,  but  the  Crows  were  too  many,  and  drove 
them  into  a  patch  of  cherry  brush  in  the  valley,  and 
surrounded  them.     The  main  Crow  camp  was  not  far 


ti 


ha' 


i 
i 

I 


lit : 


U 


;,    i 


111 


THE  STORY   OF  THE   INDIAN. 


olT,  and  wlioii  tlio  news  came  to  it,  tlic  wliolc  Crow 
villaL,'c'  moved  down  and  cani}tt'd  all  about  the  IMack- 
foct.' 

'riic  next  morning  tlio  Crow  chief  stood  out  in 
front  of  the  patch  of  brush  and  spoke  to  the  Black- 
feet  in  signs,  telling  them  that  they  had  belter  give 
themselves  up,  and  that  if  they  woulil  do  so  the  Crows 
"would  make  friends  with  them.  "  It  is  useless  for  you 
to  light,"  ho  said.  "  Vou  are  twenty-live  brave  men, 
but  we  are  three  hundred  lodges  of  2)eoi)le.  (Jive  your- 
selves up  and  be  our  friemls."  Then  Berry  Child 
stepped  out  of  the  brush,  and  in  signs  answered  the 
Crow,  saying  :  "It  is  not  the  custom  of  the  Black  feet 
to  surreiuler  and  make  friends  in  battle.  I  have  come 
to  war,  to  tight,  and,  if  I  must,  to  die.  I  am  here,  and 
I  am  willing  to  die.  Here  is  my  body.  It  waits  for 
you  to  count  coi/j)  on  it.  Here  is  my  scalp,  who  will 
come  and  take  it?  I  have  come  to  war,  not  to  make 
friends." 

Then  all  the  Crows  got  ready  and  attacked  them. 
The  Blackfeet  stood  their  ground,  fighting  bravely  till 
near  sundown  ;  but  the  Crows  kept  charging  them  in 
great  numbers,  and  in  the  afternoon  the  last  of  the 
twenty-live  was  killed.  Xot  one  escaped.  The  nnin 
who  had  been  bitten  by  the  snake  got  better,  and  he 
alone  returned  to  the  lilackfeet  camp. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  who  live  commonplace,  hum- 
drum lives  of  a  civilized  community  to  form  any  ade- 
quate conception  of  the  variety  and  excitement  of  the 
life  of  a  young  man  who  was  constantly  going  on  the 
warpath.  The  barest  enumeration  of  the  odd  circum- 
stances and  thrilling  occurrences  which  took  place  in 
a  single  tribe  of  a  brave,  warlike  nation  would  fdl  many 


HBWI 


FOIITL'NES  OF   WAR. 


115 


! 


i' 


1 


!   I. 


^ 


"^4. 


volunios.  Such  a  recital  would  presont  many  oxaiu- 
jtlo.s  of  rook  loss  liardiiiood  almost  boyoiid  bolicf,  easos 
whoro  moil  have  miiiglod  with  tlie  momhors  of  a  hos- 
tile camp,  taking  part  in  their  gambling  games,  like 
Ka-min'-akus,  or  have  given  themselves  over  to  the 
enemy  to  bo  slain,  as  did  Owl  liear  and  Kunning  I'iiief, 
or,  tliiougli  kindness  of  heart  or  mere  good  nature, 
have  uiKh'rtaken  some  very  dangerous  e.\]>odition,  like 
tliat  which  tiio  Bridled  Man  entered  into  for  tiie  sake 
of  his  wife.  This  story,  as  given  by  tiio  Piegans,  is  its 
follows  : 

In  the  Piegan  cam])  there  was  a  man  whom  they 
called  A'yos-kwo-ye-i)is'ta,  which  means  he  is  bridled. 
His  lips  had  been  eaten  away,  and  across  his  face,  cov- 
ering his  mouth,  he  used  to  wear  a  piece  of  cowskin, 
to  hide  the  scar.     This  is  what  gave  him  his  name. 

This  man  had  a  good  heart.  He  was  always  doing 
kind  things.  Sometimes,  when  he  was  the  last  to  leave 
the  camp,  he  would  see  little  puppies  which  had  been 
left  behind  to  starve,  and  would  pick  them  up  and 
carry  them  in  his  robe  to  the  next  camp,  and  nurse 
and  feed  them  until  they  were  strong  enough  to  go 
about  by  themselves,  lie  was  a  very  brave  man.  One 
time  when  he  went  to  war,  he  found  a  camp  of  Snake 
Indians.  When  he  had  found  them,  he  said  to  his 
party:  "  Well,  now,  my  young  men,  we  are  looking  for 
death,  and  there  is  the  enemy.  I  intend  to  charge 
this  village  and  give  them  battle."  They  charged  the 
village  and  a  great  fight  followed,  and  they  defeated 
the  Siuikos  and  got  them  frightened  and  running,  and 
they  captured  a  large  number  of  women.  He  told  his 
men  not  to  kill  the  captured  women.  They  also  cap- 
tured the  village  and  many  children,  and  everything 
that  the  Snakes  had. 


il- 


IKi 


TIII<:  STORY  OF  TIIK    INDIAN. 


Uii 


;  I 


i: 


lii  I 


^  I    «! 


When  tlio  battle  was  over,  they  started  back  with 
the  horses  and  otlicr  phinder  tliat  tlie  taken,  aii<l 

took  tiie  women  witli  thein.     'I'lio  P  ^lan  sch'ct- 

ed  a  wife  for  liiinst'lf  from  among  '  A'omeii.    While 

lie  was  in  liis  own  camp,  lie  could  get  a  wife.  No 
woman  would  nuirry  him,  he  was  so  ugly.  When  lie 
reached  his  camp,  he  had  many  scalps  and  many  pris- 
oners, and  many  strange  things  that  he  had  taken  from 
the  enemy.  So  he  was  much  respected,  and  everybody 
looked  U])  to  him. 

lie  started  off  on  another  war  trip,  Jind  took  with 
him  his  captured  wife.  'JMie  woman  used  to  guide  him 
about  through  the  country,  and  tell  him  where  the 
tribes  of  her  people  were  likely  to  be  at  each  season  of 
the  year.  They  went  down  south  into  a  strange  coun- 
try and  there  found  a  camp  of  peoi)le.  lie  said  to  his 
followers,  "  Now  we  will  have  to  give  this  people  bat- 
tle, and  see  what  success  we  will  have  here."  Before 
he  had  started  on  the  warpath  he  had  made  himself  a 
bone  dagger,  and  was  armed  with  this  and  a  shield  and 
a  stone  axe.  The  Piegans  charged  the  village,  aiul  the 
liridled  Man  showed  great  bravery.  lie  rushed  on 
the  eneniv  and  killed  them  witli  the  bone  dagger,  and 
pounded  them  down  with  his  battle-axe.  The  enemy 
tried  to  shoot  him,  but  he  protected  himself  with  his 
siiield.  While  this  fight  was  going  on,  a  number  of 
the  enemy  rushed  on  him,  and  caught  hold  of  him 
and  threw  him  down,  and  he  was  under  them  on  the 
ground  squirming  and  stabbing  and  kicking,  and  at 
last  he  got  up  and  away  from  them.  During  the  battle 
the  voice  of  Bridled  Man  could  be  heard  calling  out : 
"  Take  courage,  my  young  brothers ;  take  courage  ! 
There  are  many  of  our  young  brothers  growing  up 
who  can  take  our  places  if  we  fall  in  battle." 


i 


roirrrNKs  ok  \vai{. 


117 


ii , 


'Vho  Pu'.irans  oonquorccl  tlio  villago.  Tlioy  cajitnn'd 
a  ixrciit  many  woiiusii  aiul  (.'liildivn,  and  Ids  yoin>f(  nit'ii 
killed  some  of  the  wonioii  and  clnldrcn  secretly;  but 
this  was  a;j:aiiist  tiie  Jiridlcd  Man's  wishes.  'J'ius  did 
not  please  Iniu,  and  lie  did  all  lie  could  to  sto^)  it. 
When  they  p»t  back  to  the  main  camp,  a  ^rveat  feast 
and  a  war  dance  were  given  in  honour  of  the  IJridled 
.Man. 

After  they  had  been  back  at  their  camp  for  some 
months,  his  wife  began  to  beg  her  husband  to  take 
her  back  to  her  people.  She  used  to  vsay  to  lum  :  "  My 
father  and  the  jjcople  tluit  1  belong  to  are  great  cluefs. 
If  you  will  take  me  back  to  them,  no  harm  will  come 
to  voii."  Iler  husband  would  answer  :  ''  1  do  not  like 
to  do  this.  I  have  done  so  much  harm  to  your  })eople 
that  it  will  be  hard  for  them  to  forgive  it.  I  have  de- 
feated them  in  battle,  have  taken  their  camps,  have 
scalped  their  warriors  and  captured  their  women  and 
children.  It  would  be  hard  for  them  to  overlook  all 
this."  The  woman  would  say  :  "  No,  I  feel  certain  that 
I  am  right.  ^ly  father  and  my  brothers  are  the  heads 
of  the  camp,  and  they  love  me  dearly.  I  know  that 
what  I  say  will  be  so." 

After  she  had  coaxed  and  teased  him  for  a  long 
time,  at  last  he  said  to  her  :  "  Well,  let  it  be  so.  I  will 
take  you  to  your  peo])le,  although  I  know  that  I  shall 
not  get  back  here.  I  shall  not  survive.  I  shall  be 
killed."  When  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  start,  he 
invited  many  of  the  head  men  of  the  camp  into  his 
lodge  and  spoke  to  them,  saying  :  "  My  young  people, 
there  is  one  thing  I  want  to  tell  you.  It  is  a  hard 
thing  for  a  man  to  be  too  good-hearted.  For  a  long 
time  this  woman  has  been  asking  me  to  take  her  home 
to  her  own  people.     I  have  promised  to  do  so,  and  I 


5U.T 


lis 


TIIK  STOIIV   ()!•'  TIIK    INDIAN. 


h . 


■'^ 


ft  ' 


! 


ii 


i 

I 


do  iKjt  wi.sli  ftny  of  you  to  oltjcct  to  it  or  try  to  stoj) 
nio.  I  uni  ^'oiii*?  to  tlo  wlmt  slic  asks,  hut  1  do  not  ex- 
pect to  return  here.     I  exi)C('t  to  hi'  killed." 

lie  told  his  wife  to  j;et  ready,  and  that  they  wouhl 
ffo.  While  they  were  making  ready  to  start,  the  Hridled 
Man  made  himself  a  eowskin  eoat,  with  laru'e  parllecho 
culTs  to  it  wliieh  reached  up  to  his  elhows,  and  in  these 
culTs  he  sewed  a  liniiifT,  and  hetween  the  lining  and 
the  cull'  he  put  u  knife  and  sewed  it  there,  hut  his 
wife  did  Tiot  ktiow  it  was  there.  Jlis  other  knife  h»^ 
put  in  his  helt  in  its  usual  place. 

At  last  they  were  ready,  and  they  started  on  foot 
and  travelled  many  davs.  At  length  the  woman  saitl 
to  lier  hushand  :  ""  When  we  get  on  top  of  this  moun- 
tain, looking  soutlieast,  you  can  sec,  way  olf,  a  rivei-. 
At  this  time  of  the  year,  all  my  people  come  and  eamj) 
on  this  river.  There  they  dig  camas  and  hitter  root, 
and  gather  service  herries  to  dry  them."  When  thev 
got  on  the  hill  and  looked  over,  there,  far  olt  they 
could  see  the  river.  By  this  time  their  moccasins  were 
nearly  worn  out.  They  travelled  on  toward  the  river, 
and  when  night  overtook  them  they  camped.  When 
they  lay  down  to  rest  the  man  said  to  his  womjin :  ''  I 
think  I  hear  something  in  the  distance.  Do  you  not 
hear  it?"  The  woman  said,  "No,  I  hear  nothing." 
lie  said  :  "  I  think  I  hear  a  drum  heating  in  the  dis- 
tance. Xow,  you  listen."  The  woman  listened,  ami 
then  said  :  "  Yes,  I  think  I  do  hear  a  drum  beating; 
but  never  mind,  we  will  sleep  here  to-night."  But  the 
man  said  :  "  No,  if  that  is  a  drum,  the  camp  is  close  by  ; 
we  had  better  go  there  to-iight."  So  they  i)acked  up 
and  started.  They  went  on,  and  when  they  had  come 
close  to  the  camp,  they  could  hear  drums  beating  for  a 
dance,  and  the  talking  and  laughter  of  the  people  up 


*) 


'  ? 


;  "? 


fl 


Foliri'NKS   OF    WAU. 


11!) 


i 


and  down  the  river  for  u  lon<;  way ;  and  they  coidd 
tt'll  tliat  there  were  many  people  eatnped  here  on  tliis 
river.  'I'lie  man  said  :  ''  Well,  we  are  iiere.  I  am  satis- 
iied  that  I  shall  not  see  to-morrow's  sun.  Von  have 
hroiijjfht  me  to  your  country  to  <,'et  killed.  It  is  always 
a  foolish  man's  wav  to  listen  to  a  woman."  The  wonuin 
said  :  "  Xo,  do  not  be  uneasy.  My  father  is  the  ^ivdt 
eiiief  of  tliis  eam[).  Von  wait  here  for  me.  I  will  <^o 
into  the  camp.  I  will  look  throu<;h  the  lodges  until  1 
come  to  where  mv  father  or  brothers  are,  and  if  I  llnd 
them,  I  will  tell  them  that  you  are  here  and  I  will  como 
back  with  them  and  ir»'t  von.  I  know  that  thev  will 
not  hurt  you."  Her  iuisband  said  :  "All  right;  1  will 
wait  here.  Come  back  to  this  place.  1  will  not  run 
away.  We  will  see  what  is  going  to  happen."  Sho 
said  :  "  1  will  go  to  where  this  great  dance  is,  and  if  my 
father  is  in  the  camp,  he  will  be  there,  lie  will  bo 
sitting  in  the  back  end  of  the  lodge,  where  the  chief 
sits." 

The  woman  went  olT,  and  the  Bridled  Man  waited 
a  long  time  for  her  to  come  back.  lie  fell  asleep,  and 
then  woke  up.  At  last  he  got  tired  of  waiting  for  her, 
so  he  thought,  "  I  will  go  down  there  and  see  what  is 
the  matter."  Before  ho  started,  he  untied  the  string 
of  his  parchment  cuff,  and  tried  his  knife  to  see  if  it 
slipped  out  and  in  easily,  lie  went  into  the  camp 
and  right  to  the  dancing  lodge,  wliere  the  drum  was 
beating.  When  he  got  there,  he  found  that  they  were 
giving  a  great  war  dance.  They  had  made  a  very  big 
lodge,  and  when  he  came  close  to  it,  he  had  hard  work 
to  get  to  the  door  on  account  of  the  great  crowd  of 
women  and  children  standing  around,  lie  pushed  his 
way  through  these  people  toward  the  lodge,  lie  had 
his  bow  strung,  and  had  taken  his  knife  from  the  back 


I 

i 


IJO 


TIIK   ST()|{V   OF   tin:    INDIAN. 


If  . 


of  his  bt'lt  aiKJ  put  il  in  I'rojit,  NvImtc  lir  imhiM  easily 
jjfct  ut  it  il*  lit'  lU'tMlcd  it.  When  he  p»t  to  the  dnnr  of 
the  (hiiKU'  hxi^'c,  hi'  went  in.  IN'  walUcd  ri,i;lit  aloiiij 
tho  row  of  ihinccrs  to  tliu  baik  of  tho  lod^jc  where  tlm 
cliief.s  were  .^ittin;;.  In  the  niidtjie,  in  the  Itaek  of  the 
Iodide,  was  a  baek-re.st  leanini,'  a^'ainst  tiio  lodt^e  poK'.s, 
Tiiero  sat  tiie  head  chief.  He  wallvcd  up  to  tiiis  man, 
moved  his  le^'s  apart,  and  .sat  down  ri^dit  in  front  of 
liini  and  between  thein.  Jle  reacdied  down  and  took 
tho  chief's  hands,  ami  folded  tiiern  in  front  of  his  own 
body.  Tiio  dancers  all  stopped  and  sat  down.  'I'he 
drum  ceased  beatinn'.  It  became  still,  and  every  one 
turned  his  eyes  on  the  stran<xer  who  had  just  come  in. 
The  people  talked  amon<,'  themselves,  but  he  could 
not  understand  what  thev  were  savinjjr.  Two  nu'ii 
wlio  sat  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  lod;j^e,  one  on  either 
side  of  the  door,  got  up  and  came  toward  him.  'i'hey 
had  iiothiufif  on  save  breech-clouts,  and  in  their  ri«j:ht 
liands  daggers.  '^Phese  men  caught  hold  of  the  liridled 
Man,  one  bv  each  hand,  lie  braced  himself  and  held 
stilY,  but  they  dragged  him  along  and  he  slid  over  tho 
ground  toward  the  door.  When  they  had  got  him  to 
tho  door,  ho  pulled  away  from  them  and  walked  quiet- 
ly back  to  tho  chief,  spread  his  legs  apart,  and  sat 
down  in  front  of  him,  and  put  the  chiefs  arms  around 
Ills  own  body  as  before.  I'he  two  soldiers  again  came 
up  to  him.  This  time  they  snatched  oif  his  blanket, 
and  took  his  bow  and  arrows  away  from  him.  Again 
they  came  up  to  him,  singing,  and,  seizing  him  by  tho 
wrists,  pulled  him  up  to  his  feet,  and  dragged  him 
toward  the  lodge  door.  By  this  time  there  was  a  great 
uproar  outside  and  at  the  door,  people  trying  to  get 
out  and  go  away,  for  they  knew  that  killing  would 
take  place  as  soon  as  he  was  taken  outside.     Other 


,  f 


t: 


FoltTl'NKS  ol'   WAIl. 


121 


poo|)l(»  want(Ml  to  iioi  in  iunl  sec  wimt  was  jjoiu;,'  on. 
Tlirrc  was  crowdiiii;  ami  confiisicni.  Wlicii  tlic  sol- 
(liiTS  ;;ot  tln'  llridlfil  Man  close  to  tlie  door,  lie  jerked 
away  from  the  ri^iit  hand  man,  stru(d\  the  other  and 
knocked  him  away,  and  walked  hack  and  sat  down  as 
before.  Jle  kept  tiiis  np  nntil  he  had  done  it  fonr 
times.  Tiic  chief  sat  tiiere,  Kavin^  nothin<'.  iio 
neither  tried  to  enconrajje  his  men  nor  to  stop  them. 
He  did  not  m<»ve  nor  speak.     He  paid  no  attention. 

Tile  fonrth  time  that  they  drag^M'd  liim  to  tho 
door.  Ids  bridle  was  torn  oil"  his  face.  He  jerked  loose 
from  the  men,  folded  his  arms,  and  walked  back  to  tho 
chief.  When  he  <;ot  to  liim,  he  bent  down,  took  hold 
of  the  chief's  arm,  lifted  it  up,  and  drawing  the  kiufe 
from  his  culT,  thrust  it  several  times  into  the  Snake 
chief's  sidt(.  'i'heu  he  gave  the  1  Megan  warwlioop, 
and  started  for  the  door,  jumping  at  every  nuin  ho 
saw.  ^J'he  dancers  started  up  in  terror  and  rushed  for 
the  door.  He  was  rigbt  among  them,  stabi)ing  and 
cutting  and  giving  the  warwlioop  every  time  liis 
knife  came  down,  and  all  the  time  getting  nearer  to 
the  door.  When  he  got  outside,  the  crowd  started  to 
run,  but  they  fell  over  each  other,  and  he  was  among 
them  in  the  darkness,  stabbing  every  one  lie  could 
reach.  When  the  peoj)le  had  cleared  away  from  in 
front  of  him,  lie  started  to  run  toward  the  river. 

()l)p()site  this  lodge,  and  on  the  river  bank, -was  a 
])oint  of  tall  pine  trees,  and  one  had  fallen  down  into 
the  river  and  reached  part  way  across  it.  He  ran  on 
to  this  point  and  out  on  the  fallen  tree,  and  as  he  ran 
he  made  the  chattering  noise  that  a  ])ine  squirrel  ut- 
ters. When  he  got  to  the  end  of  the  tree,  he  jumped 
into  the  water  and  so  got  across  the  river,  and  made 
his  way  up  on  the  mountain  and  hid  himself. 


I 


122 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


JFe  staved  tliorc  all  the  next  dav.  The  next  nijj^ht 
he  went  back  lo  the  camp  a^ijjain,  to  see  if  lie  eoiiM 
steal  into  a  lodge  and  lind  nioceas'ns  and  some  cIoIIks 
to  wear.  lie  went  into  dillVrent  lodjj:e.-!,  tniiig  to 
gatlier  up  what  he  could  lay  liis  hands  on.  lie  could 
lind  nothin<]f  to  cover  hiniselt'  with,  so  he  went  to 
where  acoui)le  were  sleeping,  jerked  the  robe  olT  them, 
and  ran  out  of  the  lodge.  In  another  lodge  whicli  ho 
entered,  a  man  was  sleei)ing  with  moccasins  on,  and 
he  took  them  olY  him.  lie  found  some  dried  meat, 
a)id  now,  as  it  was  getting  toward  morning,  he  crossed 
tiie  river,  went  u\)  to  his  hiding  i)la(!e,  and  there  waited 
again  all  dav. 

That  night  he  returned  to  the  camp,  and  went 
into  a  lodge.  At  the  head  of  a  bed  wiiere  a  voung 
man  was  sleeping,  he  found  a  (piiver  of  arrows  and  a 
bow,  ami  he  took  them.  When  he  went  out  of  tiio 
lodge  and  started  down  toward  the  river,  there  he  saw 
a  persou  sitting.  She  had  gone  down  after  some  wa- 
ter, llo  walked  up  to  her,  put  one  hand  over  her 
mouth,  and  caught  her  around  the  waist  and  started 
off  with  her.  lie  did  not  speak  to  her.  When  he  got 
her  away  from  camp,  he  kept  on  travelling  with  her. 
He  never  stopped  and  never  spoke.  When  daylight 
came,  and  she  saw  that  it  was  a  strange  Indian,  she 
was  afraid  of  him.  lie  told  her  by  signs,  "  I  am 
going  to  take  you  with  me.  Come  on."  She  did  not 
resist  in  any  way,  but  went  with  him.  When  they 
camped  that  night,  the  man  was  very  tired.  They  lay 
down  to  sleep  for  the  night,  and  he  went  to  sleep  at 
once.  When  he  awoke,  he  found  that  the  woman  was 
gone.  So  he  kept  on  travelling,  and  returned  to  his 
]ieople. 

It  was  learned  afterward,  during  a  friendly  meeting 


'»i 


FORTUNES  OF   WAR. 


123 


with  tlio  Siiiikcs,  tliiit  ho  liml  killed  twenty  of  tliosc 
peo])le  in  liis  rush  for  the  door. 


« 

r 


Althougli  the  Indian,  as  a  nde,  sliows  no  niorev  in 
Ids  warfare,  kiliin,i]^  alike;  men   and  women   and  ehil- 
dren,  and  actin,i,^  as  if  ids  motto  were  "Slay  and  si^iro 
not,"  yet  he  can  take  pity,  sometimes  disi)layin<,'  a 
man;nanindty  iiardly  to  be  looked  for  in  a  savage,  and 
foregoes  the  opi)ortinnty  to  rid  himself  of  an  enemv, 
even  when   he  can  do  so  without  danger  to  lumself. 
Instances  of  sucli  generosity  are  not  often  witnessed 
in  the  excitement  of  battle,  but  that  they  do  occur  is 
shown  by  examples  such  as  those  given  in  the  stories 
of  Comanche  Chief,  Lone  Chief,  and  The  Peace  with 
the  Snakes,  which  I  have  recounted  in  earlier  volumes. 
In  these  particular  instances   the  feeling  which   in- 
duced the  chiefs  to  spare  the  men  whose  lives  were  in 
their  liands  appears  to  have  been   res])ect  for  their 
bravery.     They  wished  to  give  the  strongest  possible 
proof   of   their   admiration  for  this  quality.      Other 
stories   tell    of    similar    instances   where   the   motive 
seems  to  have  been  mere  good  nature,  and  often  the 
release  of  cai)tives   taken  in  war  was   prompted   by 
kindness  of   heart,  the   prisoner  beinr;  su])plied  with 
arms,  food,  and  a  horse,  and  then  taken  otf  to  a  dis- 
tance from  camp  and  dismissed  to  go  to  his  home. 

Sometimes  fear  might  cause  a  man  to  spare  an 
enemy's  life.  If  the  latter  was  thought  to  Iiave  very 
strong  "  medicine,"  the  man  in  whose  power  lie  was 
nught  deem  it  prudent  to  treat  him  as  a  friend, 
rather  than  to  run  the  risk  of  olfending  the  protect- 
ing spirit  whose  })0'ver  was  so  great. 

On  the  other  iiand,  defeat,  or  the  loss  of  some 
popular  man,  might  lead  the  victors  to   torture  the 


I 


'!:! 


124 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


captive  man,  wlio  was  tliv^n  sacrificed  in  revenge  for 
the  injury  inllictcd  by  liis  tribe  on  the  enemy.  1  liave 
elsewhere  spoken  of  tlie  sacrifice  of  the  captive  by  tlic 
Skidi,  but  this,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  not  done 
from  any  warlike  feeling.  It  was  a  purely  religious 
ceremony.  The  Kees,  while  they  never,  so  far  as 
known,  sacrificed  the  captive  in  the  same  way  as  the 
Skidi,  nevertheless  had  a  similar  custom,  though  it 
was  a  mere  ceremony,  and  did  not  involve  loss  of  life 
or  even  suffering  to  the  captive.  Among  some  other 
tribes  a  captive  was  occasionally  offered  to  the  Sun  or 
principal  dtuty,  rarely  being  killed,  but  usually  being 
tied  securely  and  left  to  perish  alone. 


t 


Hi    .      I 


[Ft' 


•m 


1 


Crooked  I  land,  .i  Pawnoe  Brave. 


*  ■,.  -4 


i 


CHAPTER   VIII. 


PltAIKIK    liATTLEFIELDS. 


Is  the  historic  period,  tlie  Indian  lias  always  hcon 
a  warrior.  Urged  on  by  the  ho])e  of  plunder,  tlio 
longing  for  reputation,  or  the  desire  for  revenge,  he 
has  raided  the  white  settlements  and  made  hostile  in- 
cursions against  those  of  his  own  nice;  and  each  war 
party  that  set  out  endeavoured  to  injure  as  much  as 
possible  the  enemy  it  attacked.  As  each  woman 
miglit  fight  or  be  a  mother  of  warriors,  and  as  each 
child  might  grow  to  be  a  warrior  or  a  woman,  women 
and  children  were  slain  in  war  as  gladly  as  men,  for 
the  killing  of  each  individual  was  a  blow  to  the  ene- 
my. It  helped  to  weaken  his  power  and  to  strike  ter- 
ror to  his  heart. 

But  the  Indian  has  not  always  been  a  warrior. 
Long  ago,  there  was  a  time  when  war  was  unknown 
and  when  all  people  lived  on  good  terms  with  their 
neighbours,  making  friendly  visits,  and  being  hos- 
pitably received,  and  when  they  in  turn  were  visited, 
returning  this  hospitality.  The  Blackfeet  say  that 
"in  the  earliest  times  there  was  no  war,"  and  give  a 
circumstantial  account  of  the  first  time  that  a  man 
was  killed  in  war;  the  Arickaras  have  stories  of  a 
time  when  war  was  unknown,  and  tell  about  the  first 
fighting  that  took  place ;  and  in  like  manner  many 
of  the  tribes,  which  in  our  time  have  proved  bravest 

125 


12(; 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


(1 


V    ' 


und  most  ferocious  in  war,  toll  of  those  primitive  days 
before  coullict  was  known. 

J  have  elsewhere  *  <;iveii  iiiv  reasons  for  believin": 
that  previous  to  the  eoiuing  of  the  wliites  there  were 
110  general  or  long-continued  wars  among  the  Indians, 
because  there  was  then  no  motive  for  war.  No  doubt 
from  time  to  time  quarrels  arose  between  diU'erent 
tribes  or  diU'erent  bands  of  the  same  tribe,  and  in 
such  disputes  blood  was  occasionally  shed,  but  I  do 
not  believe  that  there  was  anvthing  like  the  svstematic 
warfare  that  has  existed  in  recent  years.  The  quar- 
rels that  took  place  were  usually  trivial  and  about 
trivial  subjects— about  women,  about  the  division  of 
a  buffalo,  etc.  Heal  wars  could  have  arisen  only  by 
the  irruption  of  one  tribe  into  the  territory  of  an- 
other, and  the  land  was  so  broad  and  its  inhabitants 
so  few  that  this  could  have  occurred  but  seldom. 

It  is  difficult  for  us,  with  our  knowledge  of  im- 
proved implements  of  war,  to  comprehend  how  blood- 
less these  early  wars  of  the  Indians  must  have  been. 
A  shield  would  stop  a  stone-headed  arrow,  and  at  p. 
slightly  greater  distance  a  robe  would  do  the  same. 
Their  stone-headed  lances  were  adapted  to  tearing 
and  bruising  ratlier  than  to  piercing  the  flesh,  and 
their  most  elTective  weapon  was  no  doubt  the  stone 
warclub,  or  battleaxe,  which  was  heavy  enough,  if 
the  blow  was  fairly  delivered,  to  crush  in  a  man's 
skull.  In  those  old  days,  we  may  imagine  that  in 
many,  if  not  in  most,  of  the  battles  that  took  place, 
the  combatants,  however  anxious  they  may  have  been 
to  kill,  were  forced  to  content  themselves  with  beating 
and  poking  each  other,  giving  and  receiving  nothing 

*  Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,  p.  242. 


PKAIRIK   HATTLKFIHLDS. 


12: 


more  serious  than  a  few  bruises.  Tliose  who  luive 
witnessed  liglits  in  nioclern  times  between  consider- 
able bodies  of  Indians  armed  witii  iron-pointed  arrows, 
knives,  and  hateliets,  will  remember  how  very  trillin;,' 
lias  been  the  loss  of  life  in  proportion  to  the  numbi'rs 
of  the  menengiiged.  Such  battles,  as  I  have  elsewhere 
shown,  might  go  on  for  half  a  day  williout  loss  of  life 
on  either  side,  but  when  one  party  ac.'knowk'dged  de- 
feat and  turned  to  run,  the  slaugliter  in  the  pursuit 
might  be  considerable. 

In  these  wars  between  d liferent  tribes,  the  greatest 
losses  usually  occurred  when  one  party  was  surprised 
by  another,  the  attacking  party  killing  a  number  of 
men  at  the  first  onslaught,  and  perhaps  in  the  ensuing 
panic.  If,  liowever,  those  attacked  rallied  and  turned 
to  fight,  the  assailants,  unless  they  irreatlv  outnum- 
bered  their  enemy,  often  drew  off  at  once,  satisfied 
with  what  tliey  had  accomplished  in  the  surprise. 

The  story  of  the  last  great  fight  which  took  place 
between  the  three  allied  tribes  of  Pawnees  and  the 
Skidi  tribe,  just  previous  to  the  hitter's  incorporation 
into  the  Pawnee  nation,  is  an  example  of  this,  and  has 
never  been  told  in  detail.  It  gives  a  good  idea  of  one 
view  of  Indian  warfare,  shows  that  they  had  some  no- 
tions of  strategy,  and  also  brings  out  in  strong  relief 
the  common  sense  and  benevolence  of  the  Kit'ka-hah- 
ki  chief.  The  story  was  told  me  many  years  ago  by 
an  old  Chani',  substantially  as  given  below.     He  said  : 

It  was  lonjj  affo.  At  that  titne  mv  father  was  a 
young  man.  I  had  not  been  born.  jMany  years  before, 
the  three  tribes  of  Pawnees  had  come  up  from  the 
south,  and  had  found  the  Skidi  living  in  this  country, 
were  scattered 


ages 


long 


(the  Platte)   and  the  Many  Potatoes  River  (Loup). 


ll>8 


TIIK  STOKV   OF  'I'llK    INDIAN. 


1 1 


'riioro  wore  many  of  them,  a  great  tribe.  But  there 
were  many  more  of  t\w  I'awnees  than  tliere  were  of 
the  Skidi. 

Wlieu  our  people  first  met  tlio  Skidi,  we  wer(» 
frieiully  ;  we  found  that  we  spoke  a  hmgiuige  ahnost 
the  same,  and  so  wo  learned  that  we  were  relations — 
the  same  people — so  we  smoked  together  and  used  to 
visit  each  other's  villages,  and  to  eat  together.  We 
were  friends.  Jiut  after  a  while,  sonje  of  the  Skidi 
and  some  of  the  Chaui'  got  to  quarrelling.  I  do  not 
know  what  it  was  about.  After  that  there  were  more 
fpuirrels,  and  at  last  a  Skidi  was  killed  ;  and  after  that 
the  people  were  afraid  to  go  near  the  Skidi  village, 
and  the  Skidi  did  not  come  near  the  Chaui'  village  for 
fear  they  might  be  killed. 

One  time  iu  the  winter,  a  party  of  men  from  the 
Chaui'  village,  which  then  stood  on  the  south  side  of 
the  Broad  Kiver,  just  below  the  place  of  the  Lone 
Tree  (now  Central  City,  Neb.),  crossed  the  river  to 
hunt  buffalo  between  the  Platte  and  the  Loup.  While 
they  were  killing  buffalo,  a  war  party  of  the  Skidi  at- 
tacked them  and  fought  them,  and  killed  almost  all 
of  them.  Some  of  the  Chaui'  got  away  and  went  back 
to  their  village  and  told  what  had  hapj)cned,  and  how 
the  Skidi  had  attacked  them. 

Now  at  this  time  the  Chaui'  and  the  Skidi  tribes 
were  about  equal  in  numbers,  and  the  Chaui'  did  not 
feel  strong  enough  to  attack  the  Skidi  alone.  They 
were  afraid,  for  thev  knew  that  if  thev  did  this,  it 
might  be  that  the  Skidi  would  defeat  them.  The 
Kit'ka-hah-ki  tribe  were  living  on  the  Much  Manure 
River  (Republican),  and  the  Pita-hau-i'rat  on  the  Yel- 
low Bank  River  (Smoky  Hill).  To  these  two  tribes 
of  their  people  the  Chaui'  sent  the  pipe,  telling  them 


I 


1 


I 


i'UAlUlH    lUTTLKl'lKLDS. 


1-20 


wliat  liiul  lijipponcil,  and  askitif?  tlicm  fur  lu'lp  a<;iiiiist 
the  Skidi.  Kacli  of  the  trilx's  licld  a  council  about 
tlic  matter.  All  the  best  wjirriors  and  the  wise  old 
men  talked  about  it,  and  cacli  one  gave  his  opinion  as 
to  what  should  be  done  ;  and  they  ilecided  to  help  the 
Cliaui'.  The  two  villages  moved  north  and  camped 
close  to  the  Chaui'  village,  and  all  the  warriors  of  all 
three  tribes  began  to  get  ready  for  the  attack.  Hy 
this  time  it  was  early  summer,  and  the  IMatte  IJiver, 
swollen  by  the  melting  of  the  snows  in  the  mountains, 
was  bank  full — too  deep  and  swift  to  be  crossed  either 
by  wjiding  or  swimming.  So  the  women  made  many 
"  bull  boats  "  of  fresh  buifalo  hides  and  willow  branch- 
es, and  in  these  the  Pawnee  warriors  crossed  the  stream. 
The  main  village  of  the  Skidi  was  ou  the  north  side 
of  the  Loup  Kiver,  only  about  twenty  miles  from  that 
of  the  Chaui'.  The  crossing  of  the  Pawnees  was  ac- 
complished late  in  the  afternoon,  and  a  night  march 
was  made  to  a  point  on  the  south  side  of  the  Louj), 
several  miles  below  the  Skidi  village. 

Here  they  halted  and  distributed  their  forces.  One 
hundred  men,  all  mounted  on  dark-coloured  horses, 
M'ere  sent  further  down  the  stream,  and  were  told  what 
to  do  when  morning  came.  The  remaining  warriors 
hid  themselves,  half  in  the  thick  timber  wiiich  grew 
in  the  wide  bottom  close  along  the  river,  and  half  in 
the  ravines  and  among  the  ridges  of  the  sandhills 
above  this  bottom.  Between  the  sandhills  and  the 
timber  was  a  wide,  level,  open  sjiace.  The  Pawnees 
were  so  many  that  tlieir  lines  reached  far  up  and  down 
the  stream. 

When  daylight  came,  the  one  hundred  men  wlio 
had  been  sent  down  the  stream  came  filing  down  from 
the  prairie  one  after  another.     Each  man  was  bent 


i;ii) 


TIIK  STOUY   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


! 


<lo\vn  on  liis  horse's  neck  jiiid  covered  with  his  biilTah) 
rohe,  so  that  ut  u  distance  these  one  hiiiulred  rithrs 
looived  like  one  hundred  hnlTaio,  coniin;,'  (h)\vn  to  the 
water  to  drink.  Tlie  spot  chosen  for  tiiein  to  })ass 
(jonid  he  seen  from  tiie  vilia^'e  (»f  the  Skidi.  In  that 
villaj^'e,  a  long  way  oil',  some  one  wlio  was  watcinn«( 
saw  these  animals,  and  called  out  to  the  others  that 
bulTalo  were  in  si<,dit.  It  was  at  once  decided  to  <ro 
out  and  kill  the  ^^ame,  and  a  lar^^e  force  of  Skidi  set 
out  to  do  this.  'J'hey  crossed  the  river  opposite  the 
villa^a',  and  ;^^dloped  down  the  bottom  on  the  south 
side.  In  doin^'  this,  they  had  to  pass  between  the 
Pawnees  who  were  hiddi-n  in  the  tind)er  and  those  in 
the  sandhills.  Thev  rode  swiftlv  down  the  river,  no 
one  of  tlieni  all  suspecting  that  anything  was  wronir; 
but  after  they  liad  i)assed  well  within  the  I'awnce  lines, 
these  burst  ui)on  them  from  all  sides  and  charcred 
them.  Attacked  in  front,  on  either  side,  and  in  the 
rear — taken  wholly  by  suri)rise,  and  seeini;  they  were 
outnumbered — the  Skidi  tried  to  retreat,  and  scat- 
tering, broke  through  the  lines  wherever  they  could 
and  ran,  but  all  tlie  way  up  that  valley  the  victorious 
J*awnees  slau,<rhtered  them  as  they  lied.  'J'hev  took  a 
good  revenge,  and  killed  more  than  twice  as  numy  of 
the  Skidi  as  those  had  of  the  Chaui'. 

At  last  the  Skidi  w  ho  were  left  alive  had  crossed 
the  river  and  reached  their  village,  and  had  told  their 
people  what  had  happeiu'd,  and  how  they  had  been 
attacked  and  defeated,  and  had  lost  many  of  their 
men.  All  the  warriors  who  were  left  in  the  village 
armed  themselves,  and  came  to  the  river  bank  to  meet 
the  Pawnees  when  they  should  cross,  determined  to 
die  there  fighting  for  their  homes. 

When  the  Pawnees  reached  the  crossing,  a  part  of 


t  T 

if 


j' 


PUAIKIK  hattm:fii:li»s. 


i:u 


tlioin  \Viiiiti'(l  to  foni  the  river  sit  onctMiml  attack  the 
Skull  vilhi^jc  and  kill  all  the  ))0()|»lo  in  it,  so  that  iioiu' 
of  the  Skidi  should  be  left  alive.  The  chiefs  and  head 
men  of  the  I'ita-haii-i'rat  and  the  Cham'  wanted  t(»  do 
this,  but  the  Kit'ka-huh-ki  chief  said  :  "  No,  this  shall 
not  be  so.  Thev  have  foui^ht  us  and  made  trouble, 
it  is  true,  but  now  we  have  puiushed  them  for  that. 
They  speak  our  lant,MUi<;e,  aiul  they  are  the  same  jteo- 
|)le  with  us.  Thev  are  our  relations,  and  thev  must 
not  be  destroyed."  Hut  the  «)ther  two  tribes  wero  very 
bitter,  and  said  that  the  Kit'ka-hah-ki  could  do  as 
tlu'y  liked,  but  that  they  were  goinj;  to  attack  the 
Skidi  villa<;e,  burn  it,  and  kill  the  people.  For  u  lon<^ 
time  they  disputed  ami  almost  (juarrelled  as  to  what 
should  be  done.  At  length  the  Kit'ka-hah-ki  chief 
got  angry,  and  said  to  the  others  :  "■  My  friends,  listen 
to  me.  Vou  keep  telling  me  what  you  are  going  to  do, 
and  that  vou  intend  to  attack  this  village  and  destroy 
all  these  people,  and  you  say  that  the  Kit'ka-liah-ki 
can  do  what  they  please,  but  that  you  intend  to  do  as 
vou  have  said.  Very  well,  you  will  do  what  seems 
good  to  you.  Now  1  will  tell  you  what  the  Kit'ka- 
hah-ki  will  do.  They  will  cross  this  river  to  the  Skidi 
village,  and  will  take  their  stand  by  the  side  of  the 
Skidi  and  defend  that  village,  and  you  can  then  try 
whether  you  are  strong  enough  aiul  brave  enough  to 
conquer  the  Kit'ka-hah-ki  and  the  Skidi,  fighting 
side  by  side  as  friends."  When  the  Chaui'  and  the 
Pita-hau-i'rat  heard  this,  they  did  not  know  what  to 
say.  They  knew  that  the  Skidi  and  the  Kit'ka-hah-ki 
were  both  brave,  and  that  together  these  two  tribes 
were  as  many  as  themselves.  So  they  did  not  know 
what  to  do.     They  were  doubtful. 

At  last  the  Kit'ka-hah-ki  chief  spoke  again,  and 

10 


i;{2 


TIIK  STOKV   OV  TlIK   IN  hi  AN. 


said:  "  lirotlMTs,  wlijit  is  tlio  iiso  of  ((iiarrcllijij;^  over 
tills.  'I'lic  Sl\i{|i  liiivc  madt'  troiiltlc  Tlicy  live  hvw 
\)\  tlictiisclvcs,  away  from  tlic  rest  of  us.  Now  let  lis 
iiial\e  tlu'in  move  tltcir  villa;,'(>  over  to  tlH>  IMattc  and 
iivo  close!  to  us,  so  tiiat  tlicy  will  Ik*  a  |iart  of  tlic  I'aw- 
lu't!  Iriltc."  To  tliis  |»ro|»ositioii  ail  tlic  I'awju'cs,  al'lcr 
some  tall\,  ai^rccd. 

'riu'y  made  si<,nis  to  tlic  Sl<idi  on  tlio  otlicr  liaiik 
that  tlu'v  (lid  not  wish  to  liLdit  aiiv  iiioiv,  tlicv  wanted 
to  talk  now,  and  tlicn  tlicv  crosscil  over.  Thcv  told 
tluj  SIvidi  what  tlicy  liad  decided  to  do,  and  theso, 
cowed  hv  their  di'l'i'at  and  awed  hv  the  lariTc  forco 
()])])osed  to  them,  a^jfreed  to  what  had  hc'cn  decided. 

'I'ho  Pawnees  took  for  themselves  much  of  tho 
property  of  the  Skid  is — many  horses.  This  was  to 
punish  them  for  having'  l)roken  tiie  treaty.  Also  they 
made  many  of  the  Skidi  women  marry  into  tiie  other 
J'awnee  trihes,  so  as  to  establish  closer  relations  with 
them.  Since  that  'ime  the  Skidi  have  always  been  u 
part  of  the  Pawnee  nation. 

(*unninjjf  is  matched  witli  cunning  in  the  following 
storv,  told  me  bv  the  Chevennes: 

About  the  year  18.V^  the  Pawnees  and  the  C'hey- 
cnnes  had  a  light  at  a  point  on  the  liepubli(;an  Itiver, 
where  there  was  a  big  horseshoe  beiul  in  which  much 
timber  grew.  A  war  party  of  each  tribe  was  passing 
through  the  country,  and  the  scouts  of  each  discovered 
the  other  at  about  the  same  time,  but  neither  party 
knew  that  its  presence  had  been  detected.  The  Chey- 
ennes,  however,  suspecting  that  ])erhaps  they  had  been 
seen,  displayed  great  shrewdness.  They  went  into  tho 
timber,  built  a  large  fire,  ate  some  food,  and  then  cut 
a  lot  of  logs,  which  they  placed  by  the  fire  and  about 
which  they  wrapped  their  blankets  and  robes,  so  that 


li 


IMJAIIlll'!   M.\TTM:I'IKIJ)S. 


\'M\ 


t\wy  ln(»kt(l  like  liiitnan  li^jiins  l>iii;^'  down  asli'('|>. 
Tlu'ii  tlu'  (licvciiiics  rctinMl  into  tlic  sliadow  of  a  cut 
hank  and  Wiiittd.  Toward  tlir  middle  of  the  ni;4lit, 
after  the  liic  liad  Imrned  down,  the  J'awnees  were 
seen  eorniii;/,  ereei>in,i;  steaUliily  tliron;:h  the  hrnsh, 
ami  wiieii  they  liad  eome  (lose  to  tlie  tire,  they  made 
an  attaek,  .^hootin^'  at  tlie  supposed  sU'epers,  and  then 
t'inir;,'in;X  upon  thi'in.  As  soon  as  they  were  in  tlie 
(MUip  and  were  uttaekin;;  tlie  dummies,  the  Cheyennes 
he^ran  to  shoot,  and  then  in  their  turn  eliar<,n(],  and  in 
the  li<,dit  wliieh  followed  eighteen  or  nineteen  I'aw- 
nees  were  killed. 

The  old  Cheveiine  who  told  me  this,  chuckled  de- 
lii,ditedly,  as  he  remarked,  "•  The  (.'heyennes  often 
laugh  at  this  now." 

The  Indians  set  ii  high  value  on  life,  and  do  not 
willinglv  risk  it.  Warriors  and  chiefs  alwavs  tried  to 
keep  those  under  their  commaiul  from  exposing  them- 
selves, for  it  was  a  disgrace  for  the  leader  of  a  war 
party  to  lose  any  of  his  men.  It  was  their  policy  to 
inilict  the  greatest  possihle  injury  on  the  enemy  with 
the  least  possil)le  risk  to  themselves.  1'hey  aimed  to 
strike  a  telling  blow,  and  before  the  enemy  liad  recov- 
ered from  the  suri)iise  to  put  themselves  out  of  the 
way  of  danger.  'J'heir  war  was  one  of  ambuscades 
and  sur])rises,  and  having  been  educated  to  this  method 
of  fighting,  they  were  not  at  all  fitted  to  carry  on  bat- 
tles in  which  there  was  steady  and  open  lighting.  In 
liglit  cavalry  tactics  or  guerilla  warfare  they  excelled, 
but  in  the  earlv  davs  thev  could  not  face  the  steadv 
lire  of  men  at  bay.  Under  such  conditions  they  be- 
came unsteady  and  soon  broke.  The  fact  that  they 
have  been  brought  up  to  fight  on  a  different  principle 
from  the  white  man  has  gained  for  Indians  the  repn- 


I 


\u 


TIIK  STOUV   OK   TIIK    INDIAN. 


t 


I  ^ 


n 


S    I 


tation  of  bt-ing  cowanls,  but  in  l:;tcr  years  the  warfare 
of  more  tluin  one  tribe  of  plains  Indians  has  demon- 
strated tliat  when  thev  have  learned  the  wliite  man's 
way  of  ri<]:liting,  they  are  as  brave  us  he. 

Kotwitl)standin<;  all  that  lias  been  said,  desperate 
battles  were  now  and  then  waged  between  Indian 
tribes,  fights  which,  for  ferocity  iind  bravery,  perhaj)s 
equal  anything  that  we  know  of  in  civilized  warfare. 
The  last  considerable  light  which  took  place  between 
the  Piegan  tribe  and  the  allied  Crows  and  (Jros  Ven- 
tres of  the  Prairie  was  such  an  one.  The  story  of  this 
light,  as  I  give  it  below,  is  compiled  from  the  narra- 
tives which  I  took  down  in  the  year  liSlll  from  the 
lips  of  three  men  "who  were  engaged  in  the  battle,  antl 
I  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  a  fairly  accurate  account  of 
the  events  of  the  day.  The  occurrence  is  interesting 
from  the  eomi)leteness  of  the  victory  and  the  great 
number  of  the  slain  on  the  defeated  side.  Aside  from 
this,  the  account,  as  here  given,  is  full  of  characteristic 
Indian  forms  of  thought,  and,  in  the  mjitter-of-fact 
way  in  which  its  bloody  details  are  related,  it  furnishes 
an  excellent  illustration  of  the  point  of  view  from 
which  Indians  look  at  war  and  its  events. 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  the  summer,  when  the 
cherries  were  ripe — twenty-four  years  ago  (18GT) — that 
this  fight  took  phue.  Wolf  Calf  was  already  old. 
Mad  Wolf  was  a  young  man  just  in  his  prime.  Kaven 
Lariat  was  a  full-fledged  warrior.  Wolf  Tail  was 
verv  young;  he  had  not  vet  taken  a  woman  to  sit  be- 
side  him. 

All  the  Piegans  except  Three  Suns'  band — in  all 
perhaps  two  thousand  lodges — were  camped  about 
twenty  miles  east  of  the  Cypress  Hills.  On  the  day 
before  the  fight,  early  in  the  morning,  a  single  Piegan 


I 


PRAl Ul R   HATTLKFI KM)S, 


i;r> 


liiul  boon  tnivolliiig  aloii<^  iioav  tlio  Cypross  Hills,  on 
his  way  back  from  a  journey  to  war.  Ho  had  only  one 
horse.  As  he  was  riding  along,  he  j)assod  near  a  largo 
oanip  of  Crows  and  Gros  Ventres,  'i'hey  saw  hini  be- 
fore he  did  thoni  and  ohasod  him,  but  he  rode  in  among 
the  pines  and  got  away  from  them,  and  reaehed  the 
Piogan  earn})  in  safety.  Ho  gave  the  alarm,  telling 
the  j)e()ple  what  he  had  soon,  but  they  did  not  believe 
jiim.  They  said  :  "■'J'his  eannot  be  true.  If  two  people 
had  said  it,  or  three,  we  would  believe  it,  but  this  man 
is  just  trying  to  frighten  us."     So  they  did  nothing. 

'J'hc  man  who  at  this  time  was  the  chief  of  the 
I'iogans  was  one  of  those  who  made  the  iirst  troatv  with 
the  whites.  His  name  in  that  treaty  was  Sits  in  the 
Middle.  His  last  given  name  was  Many  Horses.  On 
the  day  when  the  light  took  place,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, before  it  was  light,  before  they  had  turned  loose 
the  horses,  the  old  chief  got  up  and  said  to  his  wife, 
"  Saddle  up,  now,  and  we  will  go  out  to  whore  I  killed 
biilfalo  vesterdav,  and  got  some  meat  and  the  brains." 
His  wife  sad.^led  the  horses  and  thev  started,  and  had 
ridden  quite  a  long  way  out  on  the  prairie  before  it 
became  plain  daylight. 

About  this  time  ^fad  Wolf,  as  he  lay  in  his  lodge, 
hoard  a  man  on  a  little  hill  just  outside  the  camp  shout- 
ing out :  "  Everybody  get  up  and  look.  A  groat  herd  of 
buffalo  is  coming  this  way."  !Mad  Wolf  s})rang  ont  of 
bod  and  rushed  out,  naked  as  he  was,  and  a  few  others 
with  him,  not  many.  They  saw  the  buffalo  coming. 
It  was  a  great  sight,  a  tremendous  throng  as  far  as  ywu 
could  see,  coming  toward  the  camp,  but  still  far  off. 
A  man  named  Small  Wolf  took  a  few  young  men  rjul 
started  out  toward  them,  to  kill  some.  After  a  little 
time  a  man,  who  stood  there  on  the  hill  looking,  said  : 


i; 
J' , 


!;• 


i.. 


ii 


I : 


136 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


"  Hold  on.  Perhaps  those  sire  not  bufTalo.  Are  tliere 
not  some  white  animals  amon*;  tiiem  ?  Tliev  mav  be 
horses."  lie  called  to  some  one  to  bring  him  a  Held 
glass,  and  when  he  had  looked  through  it,  he  said  : 
"Oh, it  is  just  a  multitude  of  people  coming.  They 
are  Crows  and  Gros  Ventres."  Then  they  all  shouted 
in  a  loud  voice,  for  most  of  the  people  were  still  in 
bed  :  "(iet  out  here!  The  Crows  aud  (Jros  Ventres 
are  coming  !     Take  courage  !  " 

A  war  party  of  Piegans  had  been  out,  and,  return- 
ing, had  camped  close  to  the  main  Piegan  camp;  also 
some  people  had  gone  out  the  night  before  to  camp 
close  to  the  butTalo,  so  as  to  make  a  run  early  in  the 
morning.  The  enemy  attacked  these  outlying  parties 
first,  and  drove  them,  killing  some,  and  the  people  in 
camp  heard  the  shooting.  About  this  time,  Small 
Wolf  came  running  into  camp,  gasjjing  for  breath, 
and  called  out:  "  Come  rpiick  and  help  us;  my  party 
is  almost  overcome ! "  Hy  this  time,  too,  the  enemy 
had  run  off  about  half  the  band  of  horses  belonging 
to  ]N[any  Horses. 

In  those  days  the  people  were  not  well  armed. 
Some  of  them  had  guns,  but  most  had  only  bows  and 
arrows  and  lances  and  heavy  whips. 

The  Piegans  had  run  to  drive  their  horses  into 
camp,  and  as  they  came  in,  they  began  to  get  ready  to 
go  out  and  fight.  The  head  men  tried  to  persuade 
the  first  ones  to  wait,  so  that  all  should  start  out  to- 
gether, but  some  were  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  wait. 

•  By  this  time  the  enemy  were  close  to  the  camp  and 
on  a  little  ridge.  There  were  women  and  bovs  in  the 
party.  The  Piegans  had  begun  to  fight,  but  not  very 
many  had  yet  gone  out.  A  Piegan,  named  Scream- 
ing Owl,  whose  medicine  was  very  strong,  was  the 


I 


!      { 


PRAlIilH   IJATTLEFIELDS. 


137 


first  man  shot.  He  was  liit  in  the  belly  with  a  ball, 
but  it  did  not  go  into  his  body. 

There  was  a  (Jros  Ventre  ehief  who  was  verv  brave, 
lie  seemed  to  be  going  everywhere  among  his  })eo- 
])le,  encouraging  them  aiul  fighting  bravely  himself. 
Some  I'iegan  shot  this  man,  bieaking  his  leg  above  the 
knee,  and  he  fell.  Then  all  the  Crows  and  (iros 
Ventres  cried  out  in  a  mournful  way  that  the  medi- 
cine had  been  broken,  but  still  they  stood  about  their 
chief,  and  fought  there  and  would  not  leave  him,  and 
the  Piegans  could  not  drive  tliem. 

Not  very  long  after  the  fight  began,  some  of  the 
people  found  lying  on  the  prairie  the  bodies  of  the  old 
chief  Many  ]Iorses  and  his  wife,  and  a  man  named 
Calf  KuU,  shouted  out:  "  Now  light  well  and  do  your 
best.  Our  old  chief  is  killed.  We  have  found  him 
over  here  dead.  Let  us  take  vengeance  on  these  ene- 
mies." The  Piegans  all  cried  out,  "Our  father  and 
our  chief  is  killed  I"  and  they  all  made  a  noise  and 
sla}>ped  their  mouths  and  made  a  rush  for  the 
Crows. 

In  another  part  of  the  field  one  of  the  enemy,  who 
could  talk  good  I'iegan,  stepped  out  to  one  side  and 
held  up  a  pistol  and  said  :  "  Piegans,  here  is  your  great 
chief's  gun.  I  have  killed  him  and  taken  it.  Take 
courage  now."  Then  an  old  Piegan,  named  Stinking 
Head,  called  out  to  the  Piegans:  "Men,  women,  and 
boys !  Old  men,  young  men,  and  children !  They 
have  killed  our  great  chief  !  Take  great  courage  ! " 
Then  they  all  took  courage  and  shouted  the  warcry. 

When  the  Piegans  all  learned  that  Many  Horses 
had  been  killed,  they  made  so  fierce  a  charge  that 
the  enemy  turned  and  ran.  In  a  coiiUe  toward  tlie 
Cypress   Hills   they   had   built  some   breastworks   of 


138 


THE  STORY  OF   THE   INDIAN. 


i  li 


\    !ll|i 


'      it 


i  i 

I    : 

1 ! 

1 

jiH 

stones,  and  wlien  the  Picgans  made  this  t'liarfje,  the 
Crows  and  (Jros  Ventres  ran  to  get  beliind  this  siielter. 
lint  tlie  I'iegans  were  so  close  beliind  them  that  they 
did  not  stop  there,  but  ran  on  and  out  of  the  breast- 
works on  the  other  side,  before  they  sto|)})ed  and 
turned  to  light.  I'he  I'iegans  were  close  behind  theni, 
and  Wolf  Calf  was  riding  ahead  of  all  the  others. 
There  was  a  Crow  running  on  foot  behind  the  rest, 
and  Wolf  Calf  dropped  his  rein  and  got  ready  to 
shoot  this  man.  He  thought  the  young  colt  he  was 
riding  was  then  running  as  fast  as  it  could,  but  when 
he  lired  his  gun  at  the  Crow,  the  horse  ran  so  much 
faster  that  before  he  could  catch  his  rein  to  stop  it, 
he  was  right  in  the  midst  of  the  Crows.  Half  a  dozen 
shot  at  him,  killing  his  horse  and  wounding  him  in  the 
leg  above  the  ankle.  As  it  happened,  none  of  the 
Crows  near  him  now  had  loaded  guns,  but  when  his 
horse  went  down,  they  all  fell  upon  him  and  began  to 
pound  him  with  their  coup  sticks  and  whip  handles. 
Then  the  Piegans  who  were  near  called  out,  "  Come  ! 
let  us  make  a  charge  and  save  the  old  man  before  he 
gets  killed  I"  They  rushed  in  and  drove  the  enemy 
back,  and  rescued  Wolf  Calf;  White  Calf,  and  two 
others,  now  dead,  pulling  him  out  of  the  nit'h'e. 

Wolf  Tail  this  day  did  two  brave  things.  Some 
Piegans  had  surrounded  a  Gros  Ventre,  who  was  called 
He  Stabbed  a  Cood  Many.  This  man  still  had  his 
gun  loaded,  and  was  pointing  it  at  the  Piegans  and 
keeping  them  of!,  for  they  were  afraid  of  him.  AVolf 
Tail  was  the  last  of  the  Piegans  to  get  to  him.  He 
rode  up  to  the  Cros  Ventre,  jumped  otf  his  horse, 
snatched  the  gun,  and  took  it  away  from  him.  Then 
he  called  out  to  the  Piegans :  "  Come  on  now ;  there 
is  no  longer  any  danger.     Come  up  and  kill  him ! " 


PRAIRIE  BATTLEFIELDS. 


13{) 


I 


Wolf  Tail  walked  away  from  the  (iros  Ventre,  who 
was  then  killed  hy  one  of  the  Piegans. 

After  this  he  came  up  with  another  fJros  Ventre, 
who  was  shooting  arrows.  He  also  had  a  lance.  Wolf 
Tail  rode  up  behind  him,  jumped  oft  liis  liorse,  and 
seized  the  man.  He  took  away  from  liim  Ids  lance 
and  arrows,  pulled  out  his  pistol,  and  shot  him. 

'J'he  Crows  and  Ciros  Ventres  were  now  all  running 
away,  and  the  Piegans  were  following  and  killing 
them.  They  began  with  those  who  were  on  foot,  cut- 
ting them  oir  a  few  at  a  time,  killing  the  meu  and 
taking  the  women  and  boys  prisoners.  There  arc  now 
some  middle-aged  men  in  the  Piegan  camp  who  were 
taken  in  this  iight. 

At  last  the  footmen  were  all  killed,  and  they  made 
a  charge  on  the  mounted  men.  Thev  cut  off  a  buncli  of 
these  from  the  main  body,  and  rushed  them  toward  a 
cut  couUe  and  over  a  steep  bank  ;  but  when  the  Piegans 
saw  the  enemy  falling  down  the  side  of  the  rc»?//tV,  they 
rode  around  it  and  caught  those  who  were  left  alive 
as  they  were  coming  out,  and  killed  them  in  bunches 
of  four  or  five.  They  kept  following  tlie  main  body 
for  hours,  and  at  last  they  had  been  running  and  fight- 
ing so  long  that  all  the  Indians  were  now  very  tired, 
and  they  could  no  longer  run,  but  the  enemy  were 
walking  away  and  the  Piegans  walking  after  them. 
The  enemy's  horses  would  give  out  and  stop,  and  the 
Piegans  would  kill  tlie  riders,  for  by  this  time  the 
Crows, and  Gros  Ventres  were  so  frightened  that  they 
no  longer  showed  fight,  and  the  Piegans  had  no 
trouble  in  killing  them.  Some  one  overtook  an  old 
Gros  Ventre,  who  called  out:  "Spare  me!  I  am 
old  ! "  The  Piegan's  heart  was  touched  and  he  was 
going  to  spare  him,  but  another  man  ran  up  and  said, 


V^- 


140 


tup:  story  of  the  indiax. 


I 


(( 


oil,  yes,  we  will  spare  you,"  uiul   lie  blew  out  his 


1  ■  I 


.iii> 


bruins. 

Very  few  of  the  onemv  were  killed  with  Lnms.  It 
was  not  necessiiry.  They  killed  some  by  running,'  over 
them  with  their  horses,  otiiers  with  bows  and  arrows, 
others  with  hatchets,  some  they  lanced,  pounded  some 
on  the  heads  with  whips,  stabbed  some,  and  killed 
some  with  stones.  Thev  followed  them  about ei'diteeu 
miles.  'J'he  trail  that  they  made  was  a  mile  and  a 
half  wide,  and  all  along  this  the  enemy  were  droi)ped, 
here  two  or  three,  there  half  a  dozen,  as  thick  as  buf- 
falo after  a  killing. 

At  last  they  reached  the  gaj)  in  the  Cypress  Hills 
where  the  pines  are,  and  the  enemy  got  in  among  the 
timber.  Then  the  Piegans  said  :  "  Come.  That  will 
do.  We  have  killed  enough.  Let  us  stop  hero  and 
go  back."  So  ti\ey  returneil  to  their  camp.  They 
counted  as  they  were  going  back  more  than  four  hun- 
dred dead  of  the  eneniy,  and  there  must  have  been 
many  more  who  had  crawled  into  the  grass  and  died. 

After  the  figlit  was  over  and  the  Piegans  had 
turned  back,  a  (Iros  Ventre  woman,  whose  husband 
had  been  killed  and  her  daughter  captured,  made  up 
her  mind  that  she  would  go  back  and  look  for  them. 
When  she  got  into  the  timber,  she  said  to  the  others 
who  were  with  her,  "  ^ly  man  is  killed  and  my 
daughter  is  gone,  and  I  am  going  down  into  the  Pie- 
gan  camp  to  find  out  what  has  become  of  her."  She 
still  had  a  horse  and  rode  down  the  mountain  after 
the  Piegans.  Lying  on  the  prairie  there  was  a  Gros 
Ventre  Indian,  who  had  been  knocked  down  and 
scalped,  and  had  pretended  that  he  was  dead.  Some 
time  after  the  Piegans  had  gone  he  opened  his  eyes, 
and  as  he  did  so,  he  saw  this  woman  riding  by  him. 


f 


rUAlUIE    BATTLKFIHLDS. 


Ul 


lie  called  out  to  her  and  asked  her  to  take  him  back 
to  the  (iros  Ventres,  but  she  refused,  tellin<;  liini  that 
she  was  ^'oini;  to  look  for  her  dan<;hter.  The  man 
got  up  on  his  fi'et,  but  the  skin  of  his  forehead  hung 
down  over  his  eyes  so  that  it  blinded  him,  and  he  had 
to  hold  it  up  with  one  hand  in  order  to  see.  Ho 
walked  toward  the  woman,  who  had  stopped,  talking 
to  her,  and  when  he  had  come  close  to  her,  ho  made  a 
rush  toward  her,  so  as  to  get  hold  of  the  horse's  tail 
and  take  the  horse  awav  from  the  woman,  so  that  he 
could  ride  after  his  people.  But  when  he  tried  to 
grasp  the  tail,  he  reached  out  with  both  hands  to 
catch  it,  and  the  skin  dropped  over  his  eyes  and 
blinded  him,  and  he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  the  wonum 
avoided  him,  and  presently  when  he  got  up  and  lifted 
his  skin,  the  woman  was  a  good  way  otf.  >She  rode  on 
to  the  Piegan  camj)  and  found  her  daughter  there, 
and  both  were  adopted  into  the  tribe  and  died  there. 

Up  to  the  time  when  they  returned  to  their  own 
camp,  the  Piegans  had  not  known  how  many  of  their 
own  people  they  had  lost.  Now  they  learned  that 
three  great  chiefs,  six  warriors,  and  one  woman  had 
been  killed.  Then  all  the  Piegans  cried,  because  they 
thought  so  much  of  their  chief  Manv  Horses.  His 
relations  spoke  to  Four  Bears,  the  camp  orator,  and  he 
Avent  out  through  the  camp  and  called  out  and  said  : 
"  Let  every  person  bring  one  blanket  each  for  the 
burial  of  this  chief,  and  each  one  who  brings  a  blanket 
shall  take  a  rope  and  catch  one  horse  out  of  his  band." 
The  people  did  this,  and  gave  Many  Horses  a  great 
funeral,  for  all  liked  him  and  his  wife,  because  they 
had  been  kind  and  generous  to  everybody. 

Some  time  after  the  funeral.  Four  Bears  went  out 
again  through  the  camp  and  shouted  out :  "  Bring  out 


142 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


I 


your  captives,  your  women  and  eliildrcn  that  you  have 
taken.  Jiring  out  all  the  things  that  you  have  taken — 
shieKKs,  guns,  arrows,  bows,  scal})s,  medicine  j)i])es ; 
everything  of  value  that  you  have  taken — and  put 
them  in  a  pile  so  that  we  can  look  at  them."  1'he 
people  did  this,  and  it  nuide  a  line  show.  AVhen  ail 
these  things  were  spread  out,  some  great  warrior  went 
along  the  line  and  took  up  each  thing  in  turn,  as  he 
came  to  it,  and  shouted  out  the  mime  of  the  person 
who  had  taken  it,  so  that  everybody  would  know  who 
was  brave.  This  was  a  coup.  Even  women  and  chil- 
dren counted  cuu2)s  on  the  things  they  had  taken. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


IMPI.KMKXTS    AXI)    I\I)  ISTRIKS. 


i 


The  white  man  foinul  the  Indian  a  savji'jfe  in  tlie 
stone  age  of  development.  For  tlie  most  part  the  flesh 
of  heasts  a!id  the  wild  fruits  of  the  earth  nourished 
him,  skins  sheltered  and  clad  him,  wood,  stone,  and 
bono  armed  and  equipped  him.  He  had  no  knowledge 
of  metals,  but  he  had  learned  how  to  fashion  the  stone 
mace  or  warclub,  to  chip  out  flint  knives  and  arrow- 
points,  to  tan  skins,  to  bake  pots,  and  had  invented 
that  complex  weapon  the  bow  and  arrow.  He  had  a 
hunting  companion,  the  dog,  which  was  also  his  beast 
of  burden. 

No  one  now  can  tell  the  story  of  the  Indian's  ad- 
vance  in  culture:  what  was  the  history  of  the  bow  or 
the  stone-pointed  arrow ;  who  first  devised  the  lodge 
or  the  dog  travois.  All  these  things  are  said  to  have 
been  given  them  by  the  Creator,  who  had  pity  on  his 
children,  once  without  means  of  defence  against  the 
stronger  beasts,  and  who  starved  when  roots  and  ber- 
ries were  not  to  be  had.  For  tradition  tells  us  of  a 
time  between  the  creation  of  the  red  man  and  the 
coming  of  the  white  man,  when  the  Indian  lacked 
even  the  simple  weapons  that  his  Creator  gave  him 
later.  Some  of  the  stories  say  that  then  men  had  no 
liands,  only  paws,  armed  with  long  claws  like  a  bear, 
and  that  with  these  they  unearthed  the  roots  of  the 

143 


144 


TIIK  STOIIV   OF   TIIK   INDIAN. 


prairie,  or  divw  (lowii  to  tlu'ir  fact's  the  l)riiii('li('s  of 
th(*  berry  l)iislit's  ladi-n  witii  ripo  fruit.  'I'licii,  iiidi'i'ti, 
the  i>eo])le  were  |)(ior,  weak,  aiwl  i^Miorant,  a!i(l  had  no 
means  of  ^^'ettiu^  a  liviii;^.  Then  they  must  liave  Ix'eii 
a  jtrey  to  the  wihl  creatures.  Tiie  hulTah)  are  said  to 
liave  eaten  them,  aiul  not  only  tlie  hulTah)  but  tlic  deer 
and  the  antelope  as  well.  After  this,  the  stories  po  on, 
they  leariu'd  tlie  art  of  makinj^  snares  and  traps,  in 
which  thev  took  the  small(M*  wild  creatures,  whose  flesh 
furnislied  th(>m  a  |)art  (»f  their  subsistence,  and  whose 
skins  were  their  first  clothin<jf.  Tiie  club  no  d(»ul)t 
thev  already  had,  and  from  this  the  evolution  of  the 
stoiu'-headed  axe  or  hammer  was  natural.  Witii  these 
they  pounded  to  death  the  aninuds  that  they  cau<;:ht 
in  their  siuires.  Perhaps  the  knife  was  next  invented, 
aiul  then  the  lance — which  is  only  a  knife  with  a  lon<( 
handle — and  this  may  sometimes  luive  been  thrown 
from  the  hand.  Last,  and  by  far  the  j^reatest  of  all, 
must  have  come  the  woiulerful  discovery  of  the  bow 
and  arrow,  lint  of  the  manner  of  these  inventions 
and  of  their  sequence  no  memory  or  tradition  now 
remains. 

For  the  most  part  tbe  Indians  of  the  Wctsfc  lived  in 
skin  lodijes.  This  was  partly  because  sucli  (lwellin<(s 
were  warm,  dry,  and  easily  obtained,  but  esjiecially  be- 
cause they  were  light  and  convenient  aiul  could  readily 
be  moved  about  from  place  to  place,  and  so  were  in 
all  respects  suited  to  the  needs  of  a  nomadic  people. 
J5ut  not  all  the  Indians  were  dwellers  in  tents.  The 
evolution  of  tbe  bouse  bad  progressed  far  beyoiul  the 
single-roomed  shelter  of  grass  or  bark  or  skins.  The 
Indians  of  the  East  had  large  connected  bouses  of 
poles,  sometimes  fortified.  The  Pawnees  and  Mandans 
built  great  sod  or  dirt  houses,  in  which  many  families 


■ 


IMPLKMKN'TS  AND   INDl'STKIKS. 


14:. 


i« 


lived  in  cotmnon,  tlio  sleeping,'  places  about  the  walls 
lu'in;,'  separated  hy  perriianeiit  wooden  partitions,  wliilo 
in  front  (»f  each  a  curtain  was  let  down  so  as  Ut  form 
an  actual  room.  l''urther  to  the  south  are  still  in  use 
the  man.v-r(»ome(l,  many-storied  houses  of  the  Puchlo 
jM'ople,  whii'h  were  the  hij,du'.»:t  development  (»f  the 
liousc  anion;,'  the  Indians  north  of  Mexico. 

'I'radiiion  warrants  us  in  lu'lievin'Mhat  majiv  tribes 
who  now  live  in  lod;;es  once  had  permanent  iiouses, 
and  that  the  exclusive  use  of  skin  lod;,'es  among  the 
]>lains  tribes  may  liave  come  about  in  c(»mparatively 
recent  times.  Many  of  these  tribes  have  lived  on  these 
iilains  for  a  short  time  onlv — sav  two  or  three  cen- 
turies — havitig  migrated  thither  from  some  earlier 
home,  and  manv  of  them  liavc  traditions  of  a  time 
when  they  lived  in  permanent  liouses,  though  often 
the  storv  is  so  vague  that  nothing  is  known  of  the 
character  of  these  dwellings.  The  Pawnees,  on  the 
otiier  hand,  say  that  in  their  ancient  home — which 
was  probably  on  the  Pacillc  slo])c — they  dwelt  in 
houses  ))uilt  of  stone. 

The  highest  development  of  architecture  within 
tlie  lustoric  period  was  in  the  south,  as  shown  by  the 
ruins  of  Central  America,  Mexico,  and  Arizona;  yet 
tribes  who  lived  in  the  north,  whether  0!i  the  Atlan- 
tic or  Pacific  slopes,  liad  permanent  dwellings,  and  it 
seems  probable  that  those  which  we  have  known  only 
us  nomads  may  have  retrograded  in  this  res])ect,  and 
lost  the  art  of  building  which  they  once  possessed. 

The  common  movable  home  of  the  ])lains  tribes  was 
the  conical  tipi  made  of  a  number  of  dressed  bulTalo 
skins,  sewed  together  and  supported  by  about  sixteen 
lodge  poles.  To  the  north,  among  the  Lake  Winni- 
peg Chippeways,  the  tipi  covering  is  of  birch  bark, 


14a 


TIIK  STOUY   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


wliicli,  wlic'ii  doiu'  up  for  truMsporhitioti,  is  iti  suvon 
rolls.  'IMic  liirL,'i'st  iiiul  loii^jist  when  unrolled  ri'aclics 
around  the  Iodide  poli's  iit  the  ^M'ound  from  one  side  of 
the  door  to  tlio  other;  the  one  next  in  len;^'th  fits 
around  the  ]tn\<^o  poles  uhove  the  lower  strip,  liippinij 
u  littler  over  it,  so  as  to  shed  the  rain.  Oiu'  still  shorter 
goes  on  above  this,  and  so  on  to  the  top  of  the  eotie. 
At  both  ends  of  each  strip  there  is  a  lath-like  slick  of 
wood  to  keep  the  bark  from  frayin<^  or  split  tin;;;.  The 
pieces  of  which  these  strips  are  ('(tniposed  are  neatly 
sewed  toi^ether  with  taniarak  roots — wafftiji',  'VUv.w. 
are  no  win^j^s  or  ears  about  the  snu)keholes  of  such  a 
lod«;e,  but  these  are  iu.)t  needed  in  the  timber  where  it 
is  used. 

The  larufo  sod  houses  of  the  Pawnees,  Arickaras,  and 
Mandans,  have  often  been  described.  The  Wichitas 
build  odd-looking  beehive-like  dwellings  of  «j[rass  ;  the 
lio<;ans  of  the  Xavajoes  are  of  brush  and  sticks  ;  both 
walls  and  roofs  of  the  houses  of  the  northwest  coast 
Indians  arc  made  of  shakes,  split  from  the  cedar.  On 
the  whole,  the  dilTerenco  between  the  homes  of  the 
various  tribes  is  very  great. 

Food  sup])ly  and  defence  against  enemies  depeiuled 
on  the  warrior's  weapons.  These  were  his  most  precious 
possessions,  and  ho  gave  much  care  to  their  manufac- 
ture. Knowing  nothing  of  metals,  he  made  his  edge 
tools  of  sharpened  stones.  Let  us  sec  how  the  arrow- 
maker  worked. 

The  camp  is  sleepy,  for  it  is  midday  and  the  heat 
of  the  blazing  sun  has  driven  almost  every  one  to  seek 
the  shade.  The  few  young  men  who  have  not  gone 
out  to  hunt  are  asleep  in  the  lodges,  and  most  of  the 
women  have  put  aside  for  the  time  their  work  on  the 
hides  and  meat,  and  are  sitting  in  the  lodges  sewing 


IMIM.KMKNTS   AND   IVDl'STIJlKS. 


14" 


ni'icrasiiij?,  or  else  arc  poundinj;  clMikc  cliorrics,  seated 
on  tlie  ^M'ouiul  beneath  skins  spread  over  poles  to  make 
a  sliade.  Oidv  liere  and  there  one,  old  and  verv  indns- 
trious,  is  hard  at  work,  earek'ss  of  the  heat.  Kvi-n 
the  children  for  tin-  time  have  stopped  thrir  noise  and 
retired  to  tlie  frinp'of  hnshes  aion,!,'  the  stream,  wiierc; 
they  are  phiyin;,'  quietly.  Near  a  iod;j:e,  small  and 
weather-beaten,  two  men  seated  under  a  shade  are 
hard  at  W(»rk.  Kaih  holds  hctween  his  knee.s  a  block 
of  stone,  from  which,  by  li^'ht  sharp  blows  of  a  small 
stone  hammer,  he  is  chipping  olT  triangular  Hakes  of 
Hint  for  makinur  arrowheads.  The  nuiterial  used  by 
one  of  the  men  is  a  black  obsidian  obtained  by  trade 
from  the  Crows  to  the  south,  while  the  (tther  has  a 
l)iecc  of  milky  chalcedony  |>icked  up  in  the  moun- 
tains to  the  west.  Kach  of  these  blocks  luis  been 
sweated  by  being  buried  in  wet  eartii,  over  which  a 
fire  has  been  built,  the  object  of  this  treatnuMU  l)eing 
to  bring  to  light  all  the  crac.'ks  ami  checks  in  the  stone, 
so  that  no  unnecessary  labour  need  be  })orformed  on  a 
piece  too  badly  cracked  to  be  profitably  worked.  As 
the  workmen  knock  olT  the  chips,  they  turn  the  blo(,'ks, 
so  that  after  a  little  they  become  roughly  cylindrical, 
always  growing  smaller  and  smaller,  until  at  length 
each  is  too  small  to  furnish  more  Hakes.  Thev  are 
then  put  asKte, 

Each  man  now  collects  all  the  flakes  ho  had 
knocked  off,  and,  piling  them  together  on  one  corner 
of  his  robe,  carefully  examines  each  one.  Some  arc 
rejected  at  a  glance,  some  put  in  a  pile  together  as 
satisfactory,  while  over  others  the  arrow-maker  pon- 
ders for  a  while,  as  if  in  doubt.  Presently  he  seems 
to  have  satisfied  himself,  and  prepares  for  his  second 
operation.  For  this  he  takes  in  his  left  palm  a  pad  of 
11 


.'I? 


II     II 


i 


ti 


148 


THE  STOKV  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


buckskin  large  enoui^li  to  cover  ami  protect  it  while 
holding  tiie  sharj)  Hake,  while  over  his  right  hand  ho 
slips  another  piece  of  tanned  hide  something  like  a 
sailniaker's  "palm,"  and  used  for  the  same  pur[)ose. 
Against  his  "]>alni"  the  arrow-maker  places  the  head 
of  a  small  tool — a  straight  })iece  of  deer  or  antelope 
horn  or  of  bone — about  four  inches  long,  and  })ressing 
its  point  against  the  side  of  the  piece  of  flint  held  in 
the  other  iiand,  he  Hakes  olf  one  little  ciiip  of  the 
stone  and  then  another  (tlose  to  it,  thus  passing  along 
the  edge  of  the  unformed  Hint  until  one  side  of  it  is 
straight,  and  then  along  the  other.  He  works  quickly 
and  apparently  without  much  care,  except  when  he  is 
near  the  point,  for  this  is  a  delicate  place,  and  care- 
lessness or  haste  here  may  endanger  the  arrowhead  ; 
for,  if  its  point  should  be  broken,  it  is  good  for  noth- 
ing. Sometimes  an  unseen  check  will  cause  the  head 
to  break  across  without  warning,  and  the  labour  ex- 
pended on  this  particular  piece  is  thus  wasted.  But 
usually  the  arrow-maker  works  rapidly  and  spoils  but 
few  points.  After  the  head  is  shaped,  there  are  often 
left  some  thin  projecting  edges  which  mar  its  sym- 
metry and  add  nothing  to  its  elTectiveness.  These  are 
broken  off  cither  by  pressure  or  by  a  sharp  blow  with 
some  light  instrument,  such  as  a  bit  of  bone  or  of  hard 
wood. 

The  making  of  these  stone  points  has  now  been 
almost  entirely  forgotten,  but  I  have  seen  a  beautiful 
and  perfect  dagger,  six  or  eight  inches  long,  made 
from  a  piece  of  glass  bottle. 

There  is  a  wide  variation  in  the  shape  and  size  of 
these  stone  points.  Some  are  very  small,  others  large, 
some  are  fine  and  delicate,  and  others  coarse  and 
clumsy.      The  edges  are   usually  regular  and  fjiirly 


IMIM.HMENTS   AND   INDLSTHIKS. 


141> 


smootli,  hilt  soinetiines  serrated.  A  woiuul  iiillu'tcd 
bv  one  of  tliem  is  said  to  iiave  been  niucli  more  serious 
tlian  that  inflicted  by  a  hoop-iron  point,  and  the  In- 
dian of  to-day  believes  tliat  tiie  stone  points  had  some- 
what the  ell'ect  of  a  poisoned  arrowiiead.  There  is  a 
grain  of  fonnihition  for  tliis,  since  tlie  stone  jioint 
wouM  make  a  rairujed  wound,  and  tlio  i)oint  if  deeply 
buried  in  the  flesh  could  not  easily  be  extracted  or 
})ushed  on  through,  but  would  readily  become  detached 
from  the  arrow  shaft.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would 
make  a  clean  W(mnd,  which  would  heal  much  more 
easily  than  a  bullet  wound. 

These  arrowheads  were  roughly  triangular  in 
shape,  but  often  had  a  short  shank  for  attachment  to 
the  shaft.  This  shank,  or  the  middle  part  of  the  short 
side  of  the  triangle,  was  set  into  a  notch  in  the  shaft, 
fastened  by  a  glue  nnide  from  the  hoofs  of  the  buffalo, 
and  made  additionally  scccre  by  being  whipped  in 
place  by  line  sinew  strings,  put  on  wet. 

The  arrow  shafts  are  not  less  important  than  the 
heads.  They  should  be  straight,  strong,  and  heavy,  and 
for  this  reason  year-old  shoots  of  the  dogwood,  cherry, 
or  service  berry  make  the  best  arrow  wood.  The  Indians 
of  the  southwest  use  reeds  of  the  cane,  and  with  them 
the  shaft  is  often  composed  of  three  or  more  pieces 
Some  tribes  nse  shoots  of  the  willow,  uut  this  warps 
so  readily  and  is  so  light  and  weak  that  it  v  ill  hardly 
be  employed  if  any  other  wood  can  be  had.  Tlie 
length  and  thickness  of  the  shaft  varies  with  the  tribe 
— as  does  also  the  n  .inner  of  feathering,  of  fastening 
on  the  heads,  and  of  painting — but  it  almost  always 
has  two  or  three  winding  grooves  throughout  its 
length,  the  purpose  of  which  is  said  to  be  to  facilitate 
the  flow  of  blood,  and  probably  also  the  arrow's  en- 


ffi 


ii 


i 


::! 


1 
i 


150 


TIIK  STOUY  OF  THE   IXDIAX. 


trance  into  the  flesh.  The  arrow  shafts,  after  bein^^ 
cut  and  scraped  free  from  bark,  are  l)onnd  together  in 
bundles  and  hung  up  to  dry  in  the  lodge,  where  it  is 
warm.  AVhen  partly  neasoncd,  they  are  taken  down 
and  picked  ovrr.  'i'iioso  whieii  are  not  entirely 
straight  are  handled,  bent  this  way  and  that,  and  the 
bundle  is  then  again  hung  up,  and  left  until  the  wood 
is  thoroughly  seasoned,  when  the  shafts  are  again  gone 
over  and  the  bad  ones  rejected.  Usually  they  are 
brought  down  to  the  proper  thickness  by  scraping  with 
a  bit  of  flint  or  glass,  or  with  a  knife,  but  often  a  slab 
of  grooved  sandstone  is  usetl  for  this  j)urpose.  '^I'his 
has  the  same  elfect  as  if  they  were  sandpapered  down. 
The  grooves  in  the  shaft  are  nuule  by  passing  it  through 
a  hole  bored  through  a  rib  or  a  vertebra's  dorsal  spine, 
or  sometimes,  it  is  said,  by  i)ressure  of  the  teetl\,  in 
which  the  wood  is  lield  while  being  bent.  This  hole 
is  just  large  enough  for  the  shaft  to  pass  through, 
and  is  circular,  except  for  one  or  two  projections, 
which  press  into  tlie  wood  and  cut  out  the  grooves. 
The  feathers  are  usually  three  in  number,  put  on  with 
glue,  but  wound  above  and  below  with  sinew.  The 
notch  for  the  string  is  deep  and  in  the  same  plane 
with  the  arrow's  head.  The  private  mark  of  the  owner 
is  usually  found  close  to  the  end  of  the  featheis.  It 
may  be  a  fashion  of  painting  or  some  arrangement  of 
stained  feathers.  The  feathers  are  rarely  two  or  four, 
and  their  length  varies  greatly  with  the  tribe.  They 
are  usually  taken  from  birds  of  prey. 

The  most  important  part  of  the  warrior's  equip- 
ment was  the  bow,  and  over  no  part  of  it  was  more 
time  and  labour  spent.  In  every  lodge  there  were 
kept  sticks  of  bow  wood,  some  of  them  so  far  ad- 
vanced in  manufacture  that  but  little  labour  was  re- 


I 


niI'LKMKNTS   AND   INDUSTlilKS. 


151 


(liiirotl  to  conipli'te  tliem.  Wliilc  the  bow  was  usually 
inade  of  wood,  bone  and  horn  were  also  used.  Those 
of  bone  were  fashioned  of  two  or  more  pieces  of  the 
rib  of  some  large  animal — an  elk  or  a  bulfalo — neatly 
fitted  and  spliced  together.  Those  of  elk  horn  were 
also  made  of  several  i)ieces,  fitted  and  glued  together, 
and  wra])ped  with  sinew.  liulTalo  or  sheep  lioru 
bows  were  made  of  several  pieces,  whicli  were  boiled 
or  steamed  and  straightened  before  being  put  to- 
gether, liows  made  of  horn  or  bone  were  very  stifT, 
and  sometimes  could  hardly  be  drawn  by  a  white  man, 
though  handled  by  their  owners  with  apparent  ease. 
Their  manufacture  was  a  long,  slow  process,  and  they 
were  highlv  valued,  and  it  was  not  easv  to  induce  an 
owner  to  sell  one.  They  were  nuide  chiellv  among 
the  mountain  Indians,  such  as  the  Crows,  Snakes,  and 
Utes,  but  were  often  traded  to  other  tribes. 

Almost  all  the  native  woods  in  one  section  of  the 
country  or  another  were  used  for  bows.  In  later 
times  hickory  was  a  favourite  wood,  and  old  oxbows 
were  highly  valued  by  the  Indians,  who  used  to  steam 
and  straighten  them  and  then  make  them  into  bows. 
Other  woods  employed  were  the  osage  orange,  ash, 
cedar,  yew,  choke  cherry,  and  willow.  The  wood  was 
seasoned  with  care,  worked  down  carefully,  stiaight- 
ened  again  and  again,  oiled  and  handled,  and,  finally, 
as  the  last  operation,  the  nocks  were  cut,  the  sinew 
backing  applied,  a  wrapping  of  buckskin  secured 
about  the  grip  of  the  bow,  and  it  was  finished.  Good 
bows  of  plains  and  mountain  tribes  were  always  backed 
with  sinew,  whicli  added  much  to  the  spring  and 
strength  of  the  weapon.  Some  tribes  toward  the 
Pacific  coast  backed  their  bows  with  salmon  skin. 
The  bowstring  was  always   made   of   twisted    sinew. 


f 


152 


TIIK   STOUY   OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


The  bow  and  jirrows  wore  carrictl  in  ji  bow  ease  and 
quiver,  fastened  to^^ether  and  slung  over  tlie  slionlder. 
Tlic  eovering  of  tliese  was  often  otter  or  pantber  skin, 
tlie  bide  of  a  butl'ah)  ealf,  or,  in  hiter  times,  of  domestic 
cattle. 

Among  most  of  ibe  plains  tribes  tbe  use  of  tbe  bow 
was  discontinued  long  ago,  and  at  tbe  present  time 
only  boys'  bows  are  in  use.  Tbe  old  familiarity  and 
skill  witli  tbe  arm  are  lost.  In  old  times,  bowever,  tbe 
bow  at  sbort  range  was  an  extremely  elfective  weapon, 
and  a  skilled  arcber  could  sboot  so  rapidly  tbat  be  bad 
no  dinicultv  in  keeping  several  borizontallv  directed 
arrows  in  tbe  air  at  tbe  satne  time.  The  bow  could 
be  sbot  nu)re  rapidly  and  elTectively  than  a  revolving 
pistol. 

Tbe  power  of  the  bow  is  well  known.  There  are 
perfectly  well  autbenticated  instances  where  two  buf- 
falo, running  side  by  side,  have  been  killed  by  tbe  same 
arrow,  and  it  was  not  unconunon  for  an  arrow  to  go 
so  far  through  an  animal  that  the  point  and  a  part 
of  tbe  shaft  projected  on  the  other  side.  The  arrow 
could  be  sbot  to  a  distance  of  three  or  four  bundrcd 
yards. 

The  stone  axe,  the  maul,  and  the  lance  were  all 
simple  weapons.  The  axehead  was  usually  of  soft 
stone,  grouiul  down  to  an  edge,  ami  a  groove  was 
worked  out  at  right  angles  to  its  length,  so  that  tbe 
green  witbe  by  wbicb  it  was  fastened  to  tbe  handle 
should  not  slip  olf.  Over  tins,  green  rawhide  was 
sewed  witb  sinew,  and  this  bide  usually  extended  over 
tbe  wliole  length  of  tbe  bandle.  The  maul  or  war- 
club  was  made  of  a  grooved  oval  stone,  fastened  to  a 
bandle  in  the  same  way  as  tbe  axe.  The  club  bad  a 
long  bandle  and  carried  a  small  stone,  no  larger  than 


IMPLEMENTS  AND  INOUSTKIES. 


ir>3 


a  man's  list.  'I'lie  Avoiium's  maul  was  sliort  liaiidUMl 
uihI  tlio  stoMu  was  large  and  heavy.  The  laneehead 
was  made  of  ilint,  flaked  .siiarp,  and  lashed  to  a  shaft 
with  sinew  or  wet  rawhide  strin.i;s. 

A  very  important  i)art  of  the  warrior's  oiitllt  was 
the  shield,  with  which  he  sto])i)ed  or  turned  aside  iho 
arrows  of  his  enemy.  It  was  usually  circular  in  shape, 
and  was  made  of  the  thick,  shrunken  hide  of  a  bulTalo 
buITs  neck.  It  was  heavy  enough  to  turn  the  ball 
from  an  old-fashioned  smooth-bored  gun.  The  shield 
was  usually  highly  ornamented,  and  often  had  the 
wari'ior's  "medicine"  jjainted  on  it,  and  was  often 
fringed  with  eagle  feathers  about  its  circumfer- 
ence. 

(.'lothing  was  made  of  skins  tanned  with  or  without 
the  fur.  Bull'alo  tribes,  as  a  rule,  wore  clothing  jnade 
for  the  most  part  of  the  skins  of  this  animal,  and  used 
comparatively  little  buckskin.  As  their  work  was 
chiefly  on  these  large  heavy  skins,  they  were  poor  tan- 
ners by  comparison  with  those  tribes  which  lived  in 
the  mountains  and  made  their  clothing  largely  of  deer 
skin.  The  leggings,  shirts,  and  women's  dresses,  have 
often  been  described.  ^loccasins  for  summer  wear 
covered  the  foot  only,  not  coming  up  over  the  ankle, 
but  winter  moccasins  were  provided  with  a  high  flap 
which  tied  about  the  ankle  under  the  logging.  Some 
tribes  used  moccasins  made  wholly  of  deer  skin  and 
without  a  sole ;  with  others  a  parfleche  sole  was  al- 
wavs  i»rovided.  Thev  were  ornamented  in  front  with 
stained  porcupine  quills,  or  in  later  times  with  beads  ; 
sometimes,  too,  there  are  little  fringes  about  the  ankle 
or  down  the  front,  and  two  little  tags  from  the  heels. 
All  the  sewing  of  this  clothing  was  done  with  thread 
made  of  sinew,  and  in  old  times  with  awls  made  of 


H 


l.n 


TIIH  STUUY  OF  TlIK   INDIAN. 


hi 
ill 


ii 


bono  or  stilT  tliorns.  Such  sewing  was  very  eiuluriii^, 
uiul  tlie  dressed  skin  would  wear  out  before  tlie  seams 
^•d\()  way. 

Many  of  tlie  tribes — especially  those  to  the  south — 
made  a  simple  pottery,  either  formed  on  a  mould  or 
else  within  or  without  a  frame  of  basket-work,  which 
sometimes  was  afterward  burned  awav  in  the  bakin<^ 
The  best  pottery,  that  of  the  southwest,  was  often,  if 
not  always,  made  by  coiling  a  long  rope  of  chi}',  tier 
above  tier,  until  the  vessel  was  completed.  Some  of 
the  ware  so  nuide  was  singularly  graceful  and  perfect. 
Often  it  was  ornamented  by  indented  markings  drawn 
while  the  clay  was  soft,  or  by  figures  painted  before 
the  baking.  AVith  the  advent  of  the  whites  and  the 
introduction  of  vessels  of  metal,  the  manufacture  of 
such  pottery  ceased,  and  it  is  now  carried  on  in  but 
very  few  tribes. 

Among  the  northern  tribes,  where  pottery  was  least 
known,  ladles,  spoons,  bows,  and  dishes  were  usually 
formed  from  horn  or  wood.  The  horns  of  the  bulTalo, 
the  mountain  sheep,  and  tlie  white  goat  were  used  for 
these  purposes,  those  of  the  hist-named  species  being 
often  elaborately  carved  and  ornamented  by  the  north- 
west coast  tribes.  Plates  or  dishes  made  of  pieces  of 
buffalo  horn  fitted  and  sewn  together  with  sinew  were 
common.  Excrescences  on  tree  trunks,  knocked  off 
and  hollowed  out,  made  good  wooden  bowls.  Stone 
pots  and  ollas  and  stone  mortars  were  common,  es- 
pecially on  the  southwest  coast,  as  were  also  the  basalt 
mills  used  for  grinding  the  corn,  metates.  Some  plains 
tribes  used  wooden  mortars,  usually  made  of  oak  or 
some  other  hard  wood,  with  a  long  and  heavy  wood- 
en pestle.  The  Lake  "Winnipeg  Chippeways  still 
use  a  mill  of  two  circular  stones,  revolving  one  upon 


"! 


TMPLKMENTS   AND  IXnUSTKlKS. 


y.K 


O,) 


tlic  otlior,  1)ut  the  idoji  of  this  may  havo  boon  bor- 
rowed from  tlie  whites.  liy  some  tribes  eiips  and 
buckets  wore  made  from  tlio  lininuj  of  tlie  biifTah)'s 
pauiu'h,  and  many  others  wove  l)asketwaro,  so  ti^ht 
tiiat  it  would  lu)ld  water,  and  sucli  vessels  were  even 
used  to  cook  in,  the  water  being  heated  with  hot 
stones. 

Implements  for  tanninjT — fU'shers — were  made  of 
stotio,  wiih  the  eil<^os  flaked  olT  until  they  were  sharp, 
or  of  elkhorn  steamed  and  bent  at  one  end  for  three 
inches  at  right  angles  to  the  course  of  the  antler  and 
sharpened,  or  of  bono,  as  the  cannon  bone  of  a  bulTalo, 
cut  diagoiuilly  so  as  to  give  a  sharp  edge,  and  notched 
along  this  sharpened  border.  All  these  were  servicea- 
ble, and  were  commonly  employed. 

The  dilTerent  tribes  had  but  slight  knowledge  of 
the  textile  art,  and  this  knowledge  seems  to  have  been 
greatest  in  the  south  and  on  the  coast.  Many  tribes 
wove  biiskets  and  mats  of  reeds  and  grass,  yet  the 
plains  Indians,  who  had  in  the  fleece  of  the  buffalo  an 
excellent  material  for  weaving  cloth,  never  seem  to 
have  got  any  further  than  to  twist  ropes  from  it.  The 
^lokis  of  the  south  and  the  coast  tribes  of  the  north 
practised  the  aboriginal  art  of  blanket-weaving,  and 
the  Xavajoes,  after  they  obtained  their  flocks  from 
the  Spaniards,  took  up  this  art  and  now  practise  it  in 
singular  perfection.  The  blanket-weaving  of  the  north 
is  less  skilfid.  The  rounded  hats  woven  of  cedar  bark 
by  the  northwest  coast  tribes  deserve  mention.  The 
plains  tribes  plait  robes  of  rawhide  ;  those  of  the  north- 
ern coast  make  ropes  of  cedar  bark,  and  long  fishing- 
lines  by  knotting  together  the  slender  stems  of  the 
kelp. 

Three  vehicles  were  known  to  the  primitive  In- 


il   ! 


;:  M 


'I 

•If 


i:»<; 


TIIK  SToliV   ol'   Till-:    INDIAN'. 


I 


M 


; 


\ 


.n: 


(lian — tlic  trjivois  in  tlu^  soiitli  and  tlio  slctli^^o  in  tlio 
north  for  land  travel,  and  i\w.  canoe  wlicrcvcr  tlicro 
were  water  wavs.  The  sled<'e  could  l)e  used  oidv  when 
the  <;round  was  suow-covereil,  and  it  was  scarcely 
known  south  of  the  i)arallel  of  oi)\  In  prinutive 
times  hoth  sledi^e  and  Iravois  were  drawn  i»vdoi;s,  hut 
as  soon  as  horses  were  ohtaiiu'il,  the  (ln;^'s  were  t'rectl 
from  tlu^  travois,  and  horses  drew  the  loads.  l''roni 
tinu'  inmu'jiiorial  the  travois  i»as  l)een  used  hy  the 
l)lains  savai^e  to  transport  ids  possessions,  and  it  is 
only  wlu'ii  ho  makes  Ins  first  slow  step  toward  civili- 
zation that  he  exchanii'es  it  for  a  wairon.  What  his 
canoo  is  to  the  Indian  who  traverses  the  water  ways  of 
the  north,  or  his  do^f  sle(l<|;o  to  the  fur-clad  Innuit,  the 
travois*  is  to  the  dweller  on  the  i)lains.  Where  in 
use  to-day,  it  consists  of  two  i)oles  about  the  size  of 
lo(li;(^  poles,  crossed  near  their  smaller  ends,  aiul  toward 
the  larger  held  in  place  by  crosspieces  three  feet  apart, 
'^riie  space  between  tliese  two  cross  braces  is  occupied 
by  a  stilT  rawhide  nettinu^  runiuncf  from  one  pole  to 
the  other,  and  stroncf  enouijh  to  carry  a  wei^dit  of  sev- 
eral hundred  poutids.  The  crossed  ends  of  the  poles 
are  phiced  over  a  horse's  withers  just  at  the  front  of 
the  saddle,  and  the  separated  braced  ends  drag  upon 
the  ground  behind.  The  body  and  hips  of  the  liorse 
are  in  the  empty  space  between  tlie  angles  at  the 
withers  and  the  iirst  crosspiece,  which  comes  close 
h(>hind  the  lioeks.  IJearing  a  part  of  the  weight  on 
Ins  shoulders,  the  horse  drags  this  rude  contrivance 


*  This  is  a  FiuMich  trapper  word,  perhaps  a  eorru[)tioii  of 
frnrcrs  or  a  trairrs,  across,  referring  to  the  crossing  of  the 
poles  over  the  horse's  withers.  It  liarilly  seems  that  it  can  come 
from  franni.r  or  fntinraii,  as  lias  been  suggested. 


1  )[i! 


II 


li 


!       1:1 


I 


1 


IMIM.KMKNTS  AND   INDl'STKIKS. 


157 


Hiul  its  load  over  tlio  roiiLjli  prairio,  aloiiij  narrow 
iiioimtaiii  trails  or  throii^^^ii  ljurryiji<;  torri'iits,  with 
rari'Iy  a  niisliap.  On  the  i)latt'orin  of  the  travois  are 
carrit'cl  loads  of  meat  from  tlic  biilTalo-kiiiiii'r,  the  va- 
rious possessions  of  the  owner  in  nio\  in<;  camp  from 
plaee  to  })laee,  a  sick  or  wounded  individual  too  weak 
to  ride,  and  sometimes  a  wickerwork  ca'fe  shajied  like 
a  sweat  lod^re,  in  wiiich  are  confined  small  ciiildren, 
or  even  a  family  of  tiny  puppies  with  their  mother. 
'I'hini,'s  that  cannot  he  conveniently  ])acked  on  the 
ha(;ks  of  the  horses  are  put  upon  the  travois.  Some- 
times the  travois  bears  the  dead,  for  with  certain  tribes 
it  is  essential  to  the  future  well-heinj;  of  tiie  departed 
tiiat  they  he  brought  back  to  the  tribal  burying  ground 
near  the  village. 

The  highest  type  of  Indian  canoe  is  that  of  birch 
bark,  employed  by  the  tribes  of  the  north  and  north- 
east, yet  in  many  respects  the  canoe  of  tlie  northwest 
coast  c(|uals  or  excels  it.  The  latter  being  of  wood, 
ami  of  one  piece,  is  much  niore  substantial  than  the 
birch  ;  yet  even  it  must  be  cared  for,  since  a  rough 
knock  or  two  on  the  beach  may  split  it  from  end  to 
end,  and  if  it  should  receive  injury,  the  work  of  re])air- 
ing  is  much  more  dillicult  than  that  of  patching  a 
bark  canoe.  The  vessels  used  on  the  northwestern 
coast  varv  in  leuiith  I'rom  ten  to  eightv  feet,  and  are 
hollowed  out  from  the  trunk  of  a  single  tree  of  the 
white  cedar.  After  the  tree  truidv  has  been  flattened 
above  and  roughly  shaped,  Jie  work  of  hollowing  it 
out  begins.  Fires  are  built  on  the  top  of  the  log,  care- 
fully watched,  and  so  controlled  that  they  burn  evenly 
and  slowly  down  into  the  Avood.  AVhen  they  have 
gone  far  enough,  they  are  extinguished,  the  interior  is 
scraped,  and  then  the  canoe-builder,  using  a  wooden 


] 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


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■:  1^  12.0 


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1.6 

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Sciences 
Corporation 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


C-^< 


Q', 


^ 


158 


TlIK  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


ii!' 


IiiukIIc  in  whicli  is  fastened  ii  small  cliisel,  carofnlly 
goes  over  tlie  wiiole  surface.  At  each  blow  he  takes 
off  a  little  scale  of  wood,  as  larije  as  a  man's  thumb  and 
quite  thin,  and  this  ho  continues,  within  ami  without, 
until  the  canoe  is  completed.  It  is  then  braced  by 
two  or  more  crosspieces,  which  are  sewed  to  the  gun- 
wales with  steamed  cedar  twigs  on  cither  side,  so  that 
tlie  vessel  cannot  spread.  Tiie  painting  follows,  a  d 
tlie  vessel  is  ready  for  use.  Oidy  seasoned  and  i)erfect 
timber  is  used  for  these  canoes. 

In  such  canoes,  the  Indians  of  the  north  Pacific 
make  long  jonrncys  over  the  open  seas,  often  ventur- 
ing out  of  sight  of  land,  facing  rough  weather,  and 
ca})turing  sea  otters,  seals,  sea  lions,  and  whales.  The 
larger  canoes  wore  used  to  carry  war  parties,  and  the 
sudden  appearance  of  one  of  those  great  boats  full  of 
fighting  men  carried  consternation  to  the  hearts  of 
the  dwellers  in  the  village  that  it  threatened.  Trav- 
ellers in  those  canoos,  when  they  meet  a  heavy  head 
wind,  are  often  obliged  to  lie  windbound  for  days  be- 
fore they  can  continue  their  journey. 

Besides  the  long  pointed  paddles  with  a  crossbar 
at  the  handle,  which  arc  used  to  propel  the  canoos, 
each  of  the  larger  ones  is  provided  with  a  mast  stepped 
in  a  chock  in  tlie  bottom,  and  supported  by  one  of  the 
forward  crossbars.  A  spritsail  is  used  with  a  following 
wind,  but  as  the  canoos  have  no  keel,  it  is  impossible 
to  beat,  and  even  with  a  beam  wind  the  vosbol  slips 
rapidly  off  to  leeward. 

Dugouts  widely  different  from  those  of  the  north- 
west coast,  and  canoes  made  of  pine  or  spruce  bark, 
some  of  the  canoe 


by 


peoph 


Kocky  ^[ountains,  the  Kutonais,  Kalispels,  and  others. 
Those  of  bnrk  are  qn'  3  remarkable  in  type,  being 


IMPLEMENTS  AND   INDUSTRIES. 


1 51) 


miieli  longer  on  tlie  bottom  than  the  top,  uiul  tcrnii- 
nating  before  and  behind  in  a  long  slender  point, 
which  looks  somewhat  like  the  ram  of  a  man-of-war. 
The  bark  is  stripped  olf  the  tree  trnnk  in  a  single 
piece,  the  outer  surface  being  sluived  or  scraped 
smooth.  It  is  then  bent  inside  out,  so  that  the  in- 
side of  the  canoe  is  formed  of  the  outside  of  the  bark. 
The  ends  are  then  brought  together  and  sewed  up 
with  long  fd)res  of  roots,  the  awl  or  needle  used  being 
of  bone.  The  seams  are  pitched  with  gum  from  the 
spruce.  The  gunwale  on  either  side  is  sti-engtheiied 
by  strips  of  hard  wood,  sewn  to  the  bark  by  roots  or 
cedar  bark,  and  these  strips  meet  and  are  fastened  to- 
gether at  either  end  of  the  boat,  and  along  the  cut 
edge  of  the  bark  on  either  side  of  the  two  ends,  a  strip 
of  hard  wood  is  sewn  and  the  two  strips  lashed  togeth- 
er. The  boat  is  strengthened  by  ribs  of  hard  wood, 
which  run  across  from  one  gunwale  to  the  other,  fol- 
lowing the  skin  of  the  canoe,  and  a  number  of  longi- 
tudinal strips  form  a  flooring  and  strengthen  the  sides. 
Thus  the  vessel,  like  the  birch  canoe,  has  a  real  frame, 
though  this  is  built  inside  the  skin,  reversing  the  usual 
order.  Crossbars  or  thwarts  run  from  gunwale  to  gun- 
wale, and  give  additional  stiffness.  Sometimes  the 
bark  immediately  below  the  gunwales  is  from  the  birch 
tree.  The  paddle  has  a  straight,  simple  handle,  with- 
out crosspiecc.  These  canoes  are  thus  quite  elaborate, 
but  they  are  extremely  difficult  to  handle  by  one  who 
is  not  accustomed  to  tliem,  and  turn  over  on  verv  small 
provocation. 

The  birch  bark  canoe  of  the  northern  Indians  is 
identical  with  that  used  in  the  east,  and  its  form  and 
material  are  familiar  to  all.  It  is  a  graceful,  seaworthy 
structure,  very  light  and  easily  transported  from  place 


t. 


-i'! 


Ml 


'.t 


t'tl  , 

in- 


100 


THE  ST?JRY  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


V    I  ■ 


\\ 


to  pliic'o,  and  very  readily  r('})aiivd.  It  is  in  goiu'val 
uso  tiirougliout  tlio  nortli. 

On  tlio  plains,  canoes  arc  unknown,  for  there  are 
110  water  wavs  which  make  them  necessarv,  and  thon^h 
many  trihes  whicli  liad  migrated  from  the  east  had  in 
their  earlier  homes  made  and  used  tliese  vehicles,  yet 
when  the  conditions  of  their  life  nuide  them  unneces- 
sary, the  art  of  building  them  was  soon  forgotten.  On 
some  of  the  lai'ger  streams,  liowever,  boats  were  needed 
to  ferry  across  the  chattels  of  the  jieojjle  when  travel- 
ling, and  this  want  was  suj)[)lied  by  the  invention  of 
the  "  bull  boat."  This  was  something  like  the  skin 
coracle  of  the  ancient  liritons,  but  was  even  more 
})i'imitive.  It  was  a  circular  vessel,  shaped  like  a  shal- 
low teacup,  made  of  a  fresh  buffalo  hide  stretched  over 
a  frame  of  green  willow  branches.  All  the  holes  in 
the  skin  were  sewed  up,  and  all  the  seams  pitched  with 
tallow.  The  vessel  was  carefully  loaded  with  goods 
for  transportation,  a  place  being  left  at  one  point  for 
the  paddler.  Owing  to  the  shai)e  of  the  boat,  it  could 
not  be  rowed  or  paddled  in  the  ordiiuiry  way.  The 
"woman  dipped  lier  paddle  in  the  water  and  drew  it 
directly  toward  her,  aiul  toward  the  side  of  the  boat, 
and  in  this  way  pulled  the  boat  to  the  opposite  shore. 
]Men  did  not  often  use  these  boats,  but  usually  swam 
over  with  the  horses.  8uch  boats  were  not  perma- 
nent, for  as  soon  as  they  had  served  their  purpose, 
the  frames  were  torn  out  of  them  and  the  hides  were 
used  for  some  other  purpose.  Bull  boats  were  used 
chiefly  on  the  lower  ^lissouri  and  Platte  rivers.  On 
the  upper  Ivlissouri,  rafts  were  the  only  means  of  ferry- 
ing across  the  streams. 

The  Indian's  ideas  of  art  are  rude.  He  has  an  eye 
for  bright  colors,  but  no  notion  of  drawing.     His  fig- 


IMPLEMENTS  AND   INDUSTRIES. 


u;i 


iiros  of  men  aiul  aiuinal.s  iirc  <rrotcpqiio,  and  are  as 
^n'otcsquc'ly  painted  in  staring  luii'S  of  ivd,  yt'llow,  and 
blaciv,  his  paints  being  bnrnod  clays  and  charcoal.  In 
liis  pottery  and  his  carving,  however,  he  is  more  ad- 
vanced. Some  of  his  water  jars  and  other  vessels 
have  very  gracefnl  shapes,  and  some  pots,  representing 
human  heads,  which  have  been  exhumed  from  the  an- 
cient mountls,  are  full  of  character. 

It  is  in  the  art  of  carving,  however,  that  the  great- 
est skill  was  shown.  Using  the  soft  catlinite  of  the 
pipe-stone  quarry,  the  i)lains  warrior  whittled  out  his 
great  red  pipe  as  symmetrically  as  if  turned  in  a  lathe, 
often  ornamenting  it  with  the  head  and  neck  of  a 
liorse  or  a  bear.  The  canoe  man  of  Puget  Sound 
carved  the  soft  cedar  of  the  canoe  prow  into  a  figure- 
head. I'he  XavMJoes  of  the  south  and  the  llaidahs  of 
the  north  arc  skilled  silversmiths  to-diiy,  and  the 
dwellers  on  the  British  Columbia  and  Alaskan  coasts 
still  fashion  the  great  totem  ])oles,  which  tell  the  story 
of  their  descent  from  some  mythical  jincestor.  Aery 
remarkable  skill  is  shown  by  the  (Jueen  Charlotte's 
Sound  Indians  in  their  work  in  a  black  slate  rock 
which  they  carve  into  all  sorts  of  shapes.  I  have 
seen  jdatters  and  dishes,  pijios,  and  models  of  houses, 
beautifully  carved  and  often  inlaid  with  carved  bits 
of  ivory  taken  from  the  teeth  of  the  walrus  or  the 
whale. 

Great  time  and  patience  must  be  expended  on  this 
work,  and  on  the  drilling  of  straight  holes  through 
the  stems  of  their  pipes,  some  of  them  four  feet  in 
length.  Vv'hile  the  bowls  of  these  pi])es  are  most  often 
of  the  stone  known  as  catlinite,  sometimes  they  are 
of  wood  or  bone,  or  even  petrified  wood  or  quartz 
pebble. 


!l 


■1 


1^  I 


t 


■1 


U'r2 


THE  STORY  OF  TlIK  INDIAN. 


Tlie  imisiciil  iiistrunioiits  of  the  Indian  are  few. 
Drums,  \vlii.stk'S,  and  a  llageoU't  with  three  or  four 
stops  complete  tlie  list.  'Jdie  whistles  arc  used  ehieily 
in  war,  tiie  drum  in  festal  or  religious  ceremonies. 
The  hunuui  voice  is  the  chief  musical  instrument  of 
these  people,  for  they  are  unwearied  singers. 


I 


I' 


I 


II 


i 


;  1 


-3 
G 
7i 


> 

a 
o 
o 

a 


o 


■It 


ij 
^ 


a 

■a 
■n 

3 


I  ;•   I,   ,^1 


^k 


ii 


jiiii 


.  ^1 


.  :     I  I 


, 


'    S 


M     ji 

I  I 


CI  I  AIT  KU   X. 


MAN    AM)    X  ATT  UK. 


ii, 


Like  the  wild  bird  and  the  beast,  like  the  cloud 
and  the  forest  tree,  the  })ri!nitive  savage  is  a  part  of 
nature.  lie  is  in  it  and  of  it.  He  studies  it  all 
thr()u<,di  his  life.  He  ean  read  its  language.  It  is 
the  one  thing  that  he  knows.  He  is  an  observer. 
Nothing  escapes  his  e3e.  'i'lie  signs  of  clouds,  the 
blowing  of  the  winds,  the  movements  of  birds  and 
animals — all  tell  to  him  some  storv.  It  is  bvobservinjr 
the^e  signs,  reading  them,  and  acting  on  them  that  he 
procures  his  food,  that  he  saves  himself  from  his  f^ne- 
niies,  that  he  lives  his  life. 

But  though  a  keen  observer,  the  .Indian  is  not  a 
reasoner.  He  is  quick  to  notice  the  connection  be- 
t  veen  two  events,  but  often  he  does  not  know  what 
that  connection  is.  He  constantly  mistakes  efTect  for 
cause,  post  lioc  for  projiter  hoc.  If  the  wind  blows 
and  the  waves  begin  to  roll  on  the  surface  of  the  lake, 
he  says  that  the  rolling  of  the  waves  causes  the  blow- 
ing of  the  breeze.  The  natural  phenomena  which 
we  understand  so  little,  he  does  not  understand  at  all. 
In  his  attempts  to  assign  causes  for  them,  lie  gives 
explanations  which  are  grotcsrjue.  The  moon  wanes 
because  it  is  sick,  and  at  last  it  dies  and  a  new  one 
is  created ;  or  it  grows  small  because  mice  are  gnaw- 
ing at  its  edges,  nibbling  it  away.     He  hears  a  grouse 


12 


108 


.1M& 

'^M- 


'Sb 


ft-. 


9 


I 


!i 


Hi 


!i 


i  ] 


KU 


TIIK   STOUV   OF   'VV.V.    INDIAN. 


riao  from  tlie  <;rc)im(l  witli  a  roar  of  wind's,  and  can- 
cliiflcs  tliat  till'  roar  of  the  tliiiiKlcr  imi.>it  ho  iiuulo  by 
a  bird  rmu'li  lar;j:('r;  or  he  sees  an  unknown  binl  riso 
from  tlic  ^M'onnd,  and  just  as  it  Hies  tlic  tbnndor  rolls, 
briico  tliis  bird  causes  tiiL'  tbunder  aiul  is  tbc  thunder 
bird. 

'I'o  liini  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  arc  j)rrsons. 
'I'iio  ainmals,  Irees,  and  mountains  are  powers  ami  In- 
tel li;.ienees.  The  ravens  foretell  events  to  como,  the 
wolves  talk  to  bim  of  matters  which  are  ]iap})ening  at 
a  distaiu'c.  if  he  is  unhappy  and  i)rays  I'ervi'Utly  for 
lu'lp,  sonu^  animal  may  take  pity  on  him  and  assist 
liiin  by  its  miracndons  power.  He  understands  his 
own  weakness  ami  realizes  the  streuLTth  of  the  forces 
of  nature.  He  realizes,  too,  their  incompivhensibility. 
To  him  they  are  mysteries. 

The  liulian's  life  is  full  of  tbiuij^s  tliat  he  does  not 
umlerstand — of  the  mysterious,  of  the  superhunuin. 
These  mysteries  he  greatly  fears,  and  he  pravs  without 
ceasing  that  he  nuiy  be  delivered  from  th.'  unknown 
])erils  which  tlireaten  liim  on  every  lumd.  He  luis  a 
wholesome  dread  of  material  dangers,  of  enemies  on 
the  warpath,  of  bears  in  the  mountains;  but  far  nH:)ro 
than  these  he  fears  the  mysterious  powers  that  sur- 
round him — powers  which  are  unseen  until  they  strike, 
which  leave  no  tracks  upon  the  ground,  the  smoke  of 
whose  fires  cannot  be  seen  rising  through  the  clear  air. 
Ho  fears  the  burning  arrow  shot  by  the  thunder;  the 
unseen  under-water  animals  which  may  seize  him,  as 
he  is  crossing  stream  or  lake,  and  drag  him  beneath 
the  waves;  the  invisible  darts  of  evil  spirits  which 
cause  disease  not  to  be  cured  by  any  medicine  of  roots 
or  herbs ;  the  ghost,  terrible  not  for  what  it  may  do, 
but  only  because  it  is  a  ghost.     Against  such  dangers 


MAN    AM)    NATLin:. 


1(15 


lie  ft'C'ls  tliiit  lio  lias  no  (U'fi'iico.  So  it  is  tliat  ho 
jtrays  to  the  sun,  tlio  moon,  tho  stars,  the  mountains, 
the  <;liosts,  thi'  ahovt'-pcoplc,  and  tlio  umliT-wati'i' 
pcopk'.  For  |)ity  and  for  protfction  he  appeals  to 
everythin^Mn  nature  that  his  inui'^ination  indues  with 
a  power  ^Mcater  than  his  own. 

In  an  Indian  camp  it  is  not  the  avera^j^c  man  that 
has  communication  with  the  other  and  unseen  world. 
All  jjray,  it  is  true,  hut  to  most  of  these  prayers  no 
answer  is  vouchsafed.  It  is  only  now  and  then  that 
visions  or  communications  from  the  supernatural 
world  come  to  men  and  women.  Those  wiio  are  thus 
especially  favoured  are  not,  so  far  as  we  can  tell  from 
their  histories,  particularly  deserving.  The  help  that 
they  receive  they  owe  not  so  much  to  any  good  works 
that  they  have  performed,  or  to  any  merit  of  their 
own,  as  to  tlie  kindness  of  heart  of  the  su])ernatural 
powers.  In  another  volume*  I  have  given  some  ac- 
count of  the  practice  of  dreaming  for  power,  an  act 
of  penance  and  self-sacrifice  which,  when  carried  out, 
often  secured  the  pity  and  help  of  tho  su[)ernatural 
powers,  and  which  seems  to  have  been  well-nigh  uni- 
versal among  the  Iiulians. 

Tlie  powers  influencing  the  Indian's  life  may  bo 
either  malignant  or  beneficent,  but  by  far  the  greater 
number  seem  to  be  well  disposed  and  helpful.  Stories 
about  this  latter  class  aro  much  more  numerous  than 
those  of  hurtful  powers,  and  it  seems  that  usually 
these  supernatual  beings  are  easily  moved  by  prayer 
and  accessible  to  pity.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man  who 
fails  to  show  respect  to  these  forces  is  likely  to  die. 
On  the  west  side  of  the  Kockv  Mountains,  there  is  a 


!ii 


(i^ 


*  P>laekfoot  Lodge  T»iles,  p.  191. 


ii 


T 


I! 


1 1 


I 

I) 


ICC. 


'I'lIK   S'I'oUV   (>V  Till']    INIMAN. 


iiKmiitiiiii  slu'cp  skull  <,M'(>\vm  into  a  i^M'cat  pine  tree 
trunk.  This  is  u  smci'imI  ohjcct,  ivvcrciiccd  hv  all. 
Oiiec,  hosvi'Vcr,  a  Ncz  IVrci'  liiii<;lK'(l  at  his  ('(niiiiaii- 
ioiis  bccauso  they  otl'tTcd  presents  to  this  skull,  and 
to  .sliow  that  ho  did  not  ludit'Ve  in  it  he  shot  at  it  with 
Ids  gun.  'i'he  lU'Xt  day  as  he  was  travelling  along  his 
rifle,  accidi'Jitally  discharged,  killed  him. 

TUq  de[)ths  of  the  water  shelter  a  luti'de  of  mys- 
terious inhabitants.  Some  of  them  are  people,  hut 
(jiiite  (lilTerent  from  those  who  live  on  the  ]>rairie. 
Otiiers  are  animals  similar  to  those  whieh  we  have  on 
land,  while  others  are  monsters.  The  uiuler-water 
l)eople  use  the  water  fowl — the  swans,  geese,  and 
pelicans — for  their  dogs;  that  is,  for  their  beasts  of 
burden.  Small  water  birds  are  used  as  messengers  bv 
tlio  su})eriKitural  i)owers.  'I'he  Dukotas  and  Chey- 
eiiiies  tell  us  that  the  under-water  monsters  have  long 
liorns  and  are  covered  with  hair.  The  Clieyennes 
suy  that  tliey  lay  eggs,  and  that  any  human  being 
wlio  eats  one  of  these  eggs,  shortly  becomes  himself 
one  of  these  water  monsters. 

"Witli  some  prairie  tribes  there  seems  in  early  times 
to  liave  been  a  temh'ncy  to  explain  the  advent  of  any 
animal  new  to  them  by  concluding  that  it  was  an 
under-water  animal  that  had  taken  to  living  on  tlie 
land.  Thus,  by  some,  the  fn-st  white  men  were 
thought  to  be  under-water  people,  just  as  by  otliers 
they  were  believed  to  be  si)irits  or  mysteries.  The 
Piegans  tell  with  much  detail  how  the  first  horses 
came  up  out  of  a  lake.  The  story  which  wf^s  first 
told  nie  by  Almost-aDog,  and  since  by  other  old 
people,  is  this  : 

A  long  time  ago  a  Piegan  warrior's  dream  told 
him  about  a  lake  far  awav,  where  there  were  some 


MAN   AM)   NAT  I  UK. 


1(1 


n 


liir^jo  animals,  wliii'h  wcro  luirnilcss  jiiid  wliidi  l>o 
t'ould  ciitcli,  taiiic,  and  use  to  pack  on,  like  (lo;;'.s. 
And  bccauso  tlicy  wci'o  very  lar^o  and  could  carry  a 
heavy  load,  they  would  bo  better  to  use  than  the  do;,'s, 
oil  which  the  i»eoi)lo  then  carried  their  packs,  "(io 
to  this  lake,"  said  his  <lreatn,  "and  take  with  you  a 
rope,  so  that  you  can  catcdi  these  animals." 

►So  the  man  took  a  lon,t(  rope  of  bull's  liido,  ami 
went  to  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and  dug  ii  liole  in  the 
sand  there,  and  hid  in  it.  While  he  watched,  lie  saw 
many  animals  come  down  to  the  lake  to  drink.  Deer 
came  down  and  coyotes  and  elk  and  bulTalo.  'i'hey 
all  cuiue  and  drank.  After  a  while,  the  wind  began  to 
blow  and  the  waves  to  rise  and  roll  upon  the  beach, 
savins:  f^Jt-h-Jt-h.  sh-h-Jt-h.  At  last  came  a  band  of 
large  animals,  unlike  any  that  the  man  had  ever  seen 
before.  They  were  big  like  an  elk,  and  had  small 
ears  and  long  tails  hanging  down.  Some  were  white, 
and  some  black,  and  some  red  and  spotted.  The 
young  ones  were  smaller.  When  they  came  down  to 
the  water's  edge  and  stoi)ped  to  drink,  his  dream  said 
to  the  man,  "Throw  your  rope  and  catch  one."  So 
the  man  threw  his  ro})e,  and  caught  one  of  the  largest 
of  the  animals.  It  struggled  and  pulled  and  dragged 
the  man  about,  and  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  hold 
it,  and  at  length  it  pulled  the  rope  out  of  his  hand, 
and  the  whole  band  ran  into  the  lake  and  under  the 
water  and  were  not  seen  again.  The  man  went  back 
to  camp  feeling  very  sad. 

He  prayed  for  help  to  liis  dream,  which  said  : 
"  Four  times  you  may  try  to  catch  these  animals.  If 
in  four  times  trying  you  do  not  get  them,  you  will 
never  see  them  again."  Then  the  man  made  a  sacrifice, 
and  prayed  to  the  Sun  and  to  Old  Man,  and  his  dream 


i 


• 


1, 


1  ~ 


il! 


r' 

! 

1 

t    ■ 

1 
i 

it       * 


I 

*  I 
I 

! 


168 


TUE  STORY  OF  TJIE  INDIAN. 


spoke  to  him  in  his  sleep,  aiul  told  him  thut  ho  was 
not  strong  enough  to  ciitcli  a  big  one,  tluit  he  ought 
try  to  catch  one  of  the  young — then  he  could  hold  it. 
The  man  went  again  to  the  shores  of  the  big  lake, 
and  again  dug  a  hole  in  the  sand  and  lay  hidden 
there,  lie  saw  all  the  animals  come  down  to  drink — 
the  deer,  the  wolves,  the  elk,  and  the  butfalo.  At 
last  the  wind  began  to  rise  and  the  waves  to  roll  and 
t'  say  sh-h-h-hf  sh-li-li-h  upon  the  shore.  Then  came 
the  band  of  strange  animals  to  drink  at  the  lake. 
Again  the  man  threw  his  rope,  and  this  time  he 
caught  one  of  the  young  and  was  able  to  hold  it.  lie 
caught  all  of  the  young  ones  out  of  the  band  and  took 
them  to  the  camp.  After  they  had  been  there  a  little 
while,  the  mares — the  mothers  of  these  colts — came 
trotting  into  the  camp ;  their  udders  were  full  of 
milk.     Aft}r  them  came  all  the  others  of  the  band. 

At  ilist  the  people  Avere  afraid  of  these  new  ani- 
mals and  would  not  go  near  them,  but  the  man  who 
had  caught  them  told  everybody  that  they  were  harm- 
less. After  a  time  they  became  tame,  so  that  they 
did  not  have  to  be  tied  up,  but  followed  the  camp 
about  as  it  moved  from  place  to  place.  Then  the 
people  began  to  put  packs  on  them,  and  they  called 
them  po-no-kah' mi-ta^  that  is,  elk-dog,  because  they 
are  big  and  shaped  like  an  elk,  and  carry  a  pack  like 
a  dog.     This  is  how  the  Piku'ni  got  their  horses. 

If  the  under-world  is  peopled  with  mysterious  and 
terrible  inhabitants,  not  less  strange  and  powerful  are 
those  who  dwell  in  the  regions  of  the  upper  air. 
There  lives  the  thunder,  that  fearful  one,  who  strikes 
without  warning,  whose  bolt  shatters  the  lofty  crag, 
blasts  the  tallest  pine,  and  fells  the  strongest  animal, 
a  moment  before  active  and  full  of  life.     There  are 


MAN   AND  NATURE. 


ica 


tlie  winds,  the  cloiuls,  tlie  gliosts,  and  many  other 
persons,  wlioni  sometimes  we  feel,  but  never  see. 

As  has  been  said,  tlie  thunder  is  usually  regarded 
as  a  great  bird,  but  this  appears  to  have  relation 
merely  to  the  sound  that  it  produces.  Often  the 
thunder  is  described  as  a  person,  sometimes  as  a 
dreadfid  num  M'ith  threatening  eyes,  or  again,  young 
and  handsome.  Sometimes  it  is  a  monster,  birdliko 
only  in  that  it  has  wings  and  the  power  of  flight. 
Thunder  is  terrible  and  must  be  prayed  to,  and  be- 
sides this,  ho  brings  the  rain  which  makes  the  crops  to 
grow  and  tlie  berries  large  and  sweet,  and  for  this 
reason,  too,  he  must  be  prayed  to.  The  rainstorm 
and  the  thunder  are  scarcely  separated  in  the  Indian's 
mind.  Sometimes,  when  the  thunder  appears  most 
dangerous,  it  can  be  frightened  away.  A  friend  of 
mine  was  once  on  the  prairie  in  a  very  severe  storm. 
The  hair  of  his  head  and  the  mano  of  his  horse  stood 
straight  out.  I'hc  thunder  was  crashing  all  about 
him  and  kept  drawing  nearer  and  nearer.  The  man 
was  very  much  frightened  and  did  not  know  what  to 
do,  but  at  length  in  despair  he  began  to  shoot  his  gun 
at  the  thunder,  loading  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  firing 
h  che  direction  of  the  sound.  Soon  after  he  began 
to  do  this,  the  thunder  commenced  to  move  away  and 
at  last  ceased  altogether. 

Some  tribes  believe  that  a  bitter  hostility  exists 
between  the  thunder  birds  and  the  under-water  mon- 
sters, the  birds  attacking  these  last  when  they  see 
them,  and  striving  to  carry  them  olL 

The  Kev.  J.  0.  Dorsey  tells  of  a  Winnebago  In- 
dian, who  was  said  to  have  been  an  eve  witness  of  such 
a  conflict,  and  who  was  called  on  by  each  of  the  com- 
batants for  assistance  in  the  fight,  each  promising  to 


I 


¥' 


I 
I 


y    I 


'    IS 


170 


THE  STORY   OF  THE  INDIAN. 


reward  him  for  liis  aid.  The  niaii  was  naturally  very 
imich  afraid,  and  was  doubtful  what  part  he  should 
take  in  the  combat,  but  at  length  he  determined  to 
assist  the  thunder  bird  and  shot  aji  arrow  into  the 
water  monster.  This  terminated  the  light  in  favour 
of  the  aerial  power,  which  then  Hew  away  with  its  foe. 
But  the  wounded  under-water  monster  called  back  to 
the  man,  "  Yes,  it  is  true  that  you  may  become  great, 
but  your  relations  must  die."  And  it  was  so.  The 
man  did  become  great,  but  his  relations  died.  Some- 
times, however,  arrows  shot  by  man  will  not  injure 
an  under-water  animal.  It  pays  no  attention  to  the 
arrows. 

One  view  taken  of  the  thunder  is  given  in  a  story 
told  in  the  JJlackfoot  Lodge  Tales;  another  is  found 
in  the  story  of  the  Thunder  Pipe,  a  Hlood  story : 

This  hap})ened  long  ago.  In  the  camp  the  chil- 
dren playing,  had  little  lodges  and  sticks  for  lodge 
poles,  and  used  to  make  travois  for  their  dogs.  A 
number  of  them  would  get  together  and  harness  their 
dogs  and  move  camp  about  a  mile,  carrying  their  little 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  then  jnit  up  their  lodges. 
Such  was  the  children's  play. 

One  day,  while  they  were  out  doing  this,  a  big 
cloud  came  up.  The  children  said,  "  We  had  better 
go  home.  It  looks  as  if  it  were  going  to  rain."  They 
waited  too  long,  and  before  they  had  started,  the  storm 
began.  Some  went  on  home  in  the  rain,  and  some 
went  into  the  brush,  to  wait  there  till  the  storm  had 
passed.  It  was  thundering  and  lightening — a  very 
hard  storm.  It  grew  worse  and  worse,  and  the  thun- 
der came  closer,  and  those  who  had  stayed  became 
frightened,  and  at  length  ran  home  in  the  rain. 

After  the  children  had  all  reached  the  camp,  one 


MAX   AND   XATL'Ri:. 


171 


was  still  missing — a  girl  about  fifteen  years  old,  very 
})retty.  When  the  storm  had  passed,  some  of  tiie 
l)eople  went  out  to  look  for  this  child,  l)ut  they  oouhl 
not  find  her.  This  ahirnied  tlie  eamp,  and  everybody 
turned  out  to  try  to  find  the  little  girl.  They  looL'd 
for  her  for  tliree  davs,  but  coidd  not  find  her.  The 
mother  was  very  sorry  to  have  lost  her  child,  and 
gashed  her  legs  and  arms  and  cut  oil  the  emls  of  her 
fingers,  and  the  father  did  tlie  same.  Tiiey  sat  up  on 
the  hills  mourning,  and  would  not  eat,  nor  drink,  nor 
come  to  cam}),  they  were  so  sorry  for  the  loss  of  the 
girl.  At  last  the  camp  moved  and  went  to  another 
stream. 

Soon  after  they  got  there,  another  terrible  storm 
came  up.  The  clouds  were  black,  the  rain  poured 
down,  and  the  thunder  crashed  everywhere  about  tlie 
camp.  During  the  storm,  while  it  was  raining  heavi- 
est, a  young  man  came  running  into  the  lodge  of  the 
mourners  and  said  to  them,  "  Your  girl  has  come 
back."  The  girl  was  brought  into  the  lodge,  and  her 
father  and  mother  were  very  happy  to  see  her.  Be- 
fore they  had  time  to  speak,  she  said  to  them,  "  Father 
and  mother,  I  have  been  away,  but  it  was  not  my 
fault."  They  asked  her,  "  Where  have  you  been  ?  " 
She  replied:  "  I  cannot  tell  you  that.  I  do  not  know 
where  I  have  been.  AVhile  it  was  raiinng  and  thun- 
dering  the  other  day  a  young  man  came  and  stood 
beside  mo  and  said,  '  Let  us  go.'  I  did  not  want  to 
go,  but  he  took  me.  I  have  been  crying  all  the  time 
ever  since,  and  at  hist  he  took  pity  on  me  and  brought 
me  back.  If  you  will  go  to  my  grandmother's  lodge 
you  will  see  him.  lie  is  in  there.  You  will  also  find 
a  pipestem,  which  your  son-in-law  has  given  me. 
liring  it  to  this  lodge." 


Hi 


:ji: 


li      .4 


iv  ■ 


Ff    i. 


I  u 


li 


t   .        a; 


172 


TII1<:  STORY  OF  TIII<:   INDIAN. 


TIjc  jnircnts  went  over  to  the  lodge  to  get  the  pipe- 
stem,  iuid  were  niuch  surprised  to  see  wiuit  a  hiind- 
sonie  young  man  was  there.  They  did  not  know  liim. 
Ho  was  a  stranger  to  them,  lie  was  so  liandsonie 
tliev  were  friglilenech 

'IMie  old  people  took  the  stem  and  hrought  it  to 
their  lodge,  and  said  to  their  daughter:  "  Well,  it  is 
good  that  you  are  married.  Your  husband  is  a  very 
line-looking  man.  Who  is  he?"  She  answered,  "1 
cannot  tell  vou,  for  I  do  not  know."  "  When  did  vou 
first  see  him?  Where  did  he  iindyou?"  they  said. 
The  girl  re})lied  :  "1  was  bending  down  over  a  tre^^ 
trunk  when  the  thunder  fell  right  in  front  of  me. 
AVlien  I  raised  myself  up  quickly  and  looked,  this 
young  man  was  standing  by  me.  I  did  not  wish  to 
go  with  him,  but  he  took  me.  We  had  only  walked 
a  little  way  when  I  found  I  was  in  a  strange  hind,  and 
I  have  been  crying  ever  since.  At  last  he  said  to 
me,  '  Weil,  if  you  are  so  lonesome,  I  will  have  to 
take  you  back  to  your  people.'  It  was  a  line,  bright 
day  when  we  started  tiiis  morning,  but  we  had  gone 
only  a  little  way  when  we  were  walking  in  a  small 
mist.  As  we  came  further  this  mist  grew  larger  and 
rose  and  clouded  over  the  whole  sky,  and  we  walked 
on  in  it.  After  a  while,  I  found  the  rain  ]>ouring 
down,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  standing  here 
in  your  camji." 

The  parents  talked  to  the  young  man,  but  he  would 
not  answer  them.  The  girl  told  the  people  that  while 
in  the  strange  land  the  young  man  gave  her  a  pipe- 
stem  to  give  to  her  father.  When  he  was  in  trouble 
and  wanted  help,  ho  might  ask  for  it  from  this  pipe- 
stem.  Then  the  Thunder  power  would  aid  him. 
"  When  vour  father  is  tired  of  it,"  he  said  "  he  may 


h 


MAX   AND  NATUUL:. 


173 


give  it  to  his  rhildrcn,  iiiul  tlioy  may  iiso  it  with  the 
same  power.  So  long  as  tliis  stem  is  kept  by  your 
people  it  will  be  a  great  help  to  them." 

'J'his  is  where  the  stem  came  from  that  i)eloiig3 
to  Mahkwe'yi  pis'to-ki.  It  has  been  kei)t  in  this 
tribe,  haitded  down  from  tiiose  days,  and  is  still  in 
the  Blood  cam}). 

The  winter  storms  of  snow  and  cold  are  ruled  by 
a  person  sometimes  called  Coldmaker.  Jle  is  white, 
not  as  the  white  man  is  white,  but  rather  like  the 
snow,  and  is  clad  in  white,  and  rides  a  white  horse. 
He  brings  the  storm,  riding  in  the  midst  of  it,  and 
some  peo})le  have  the  power  to  call  him  and  to  bring 
on  a  snowstorm. 

The  wind  does  not  often  take  material  shape  and 
is  seldom  seen,  yet  in  some  cases  it  sj)eaks  to  people. 
Also  it  is  sometimes  made  a  messenger  by  the  ruler. 
Various  causes  are  assigned  for  the  blowinir  of  the 
wind,  and  one  of  these — told  me  years  ago  by  an  old 
Blood  Indian,  who  knew  the  men  to  whom  this  hap- 
pened— is  perhaps  worth  repeating: 

A  good  many  years  ago  the  camp  was  moving 
from  the  north  down  through  this  country  (that  along 
Milk  River  and  the  head  waters  of  the  ^larias). 
When  they  had  got  down  here  they  ran  out  of  Vherhe 
and  moved  up  toward  the  mountains  to  gather  some, 
and  there  they  saw  Windmaker. 

There  were  three  young  men  who  went  out  to 
gather  llierbe.  They  went  up  on  the  foothills,  and 
as  they  were  going  along  they  saw,  down  below  them 
in  a  valley,  a  strange  animal.  It  was  small — the  size 
of  a  white  man's  cow%  blue-roan  in  colour,  and  had  a 
very  long  tail.     They  stood  looking  down  at  it,  and 


. 


n( 


am 


smm 


i 

r 

1 

1 

1 

i1 


I.  !i^ 


\i  ■■ 


s 


!   i 


li|i^ 


:!l! 


17i 


TIIK  STORY   OF  THK    INDIAN. 


siiid  to  ciicli  otlier,  "  What  kind  of  an  animal  is 
that?"     \oiio  of  thuni  had  ever  soon  anything  like  it. 

At  K'n;,ffij,  while  it  was  walking  about  grazing,  it 
raised  iis  head  and  looked  toward  them,  and  they  saw 
tiiat  it  had  very  long  ears.  When  it  looked  toward 
tiiem,  it  moved  its  ears  backward  and  forward  two  or 
three  times,  and  at  once  there  cjimc  two  or  three 
terrible  gusts  of  wind.  It  turned,  and  started  to  trot 
olf  toward  the  mountains,  and  they  followed  it.  It 
tiirew  its  ears  backward  and  forward,  and  gusts  of 
wind  kept  coming.  They  chased  it,  and  it  ran  into  a 
l)icco  of  timber,  in  which  there  was  a  lake.  Here  the 
men  separated,  one  going  around  the  timber  on  either 
side  of  the  lake,  while  the  third  followed  the  animal. 

When  the  two  men  had  gone  around  the  timber 
and  came  to  the  further  edge  of  the  lake,  the  wind 
died  down  very  suddenly.  They  stood  there,  waiting 
and  looking  for  the  animal.  The  man  wlio  had  fol- 
lowed  it  saw  the  tracks  going  into  the  lake,  and  signed 
to  the  others  to  come  to  him.  They,  too,  saw  where 
it  had  gone  into  the  water,  but  although  they  went 
all  around  the  lake,  they  could  not  see  any  tracks 
where  it  had  come  out.  They  waited  about  till  dark, 
but  it  did  not  come  out  of  the  lake,  so  they  went  back 
to  their  camp  and  told  the  medicine  man  what  they 
had  seen. 

Before  that  the  people  had  never  known  what  it 
was  that  made  the  wind  blow,  but  now,  when  they  had 
seen  this  animal,  the  medicine  man  decided  that  it 
caused  the  wind,  and  they  called  it  Windmaker. 

The  beliefs  in  animals  are  as  numerous  as  the 
tribes — almost  as  the  individuals  of  the  tribes.  Many 
of  them   have  already  been  alluded   to,   or  will   be 


MAN   AND  NATURK. 


1:5 


spoken  of  ill  the  eliiiptor  on  reli<,Mon.  'J'lio  Dakot.-.s 
believe  that  the  bear  and  the  wolf  exert  evil  inllii- 
ences,  and  cause  disease  and  death,  while  the  I'awnees 
re^^ard  them  as  I'rieiuUy  and  helpful,  licsides  the 
reverence  felt  for  the  bultalo,  there  are  believed  to 
exist  certain  mysterious  bulTalo  which  cannot  be 
killed  and  which  have  great  power. 

The  J'awnee  Indians  have  a  special  belief  Aljout 
a  little  animal  which  thev  call  f^round  d<)<%  and  which, 
from  their  description,  1  believe  to  be  the  black- 
footed  ferret  [Puturius  nigripes).  This  animal,  being 
nocturnal  in  habit  and,  spending  most  of  its  time  in 
burrows  nnder  grounu,  is  seldom  seen.  The  l^iwnees 
believe  that  if  this  animal  sits  up  and  looks  at  a  man, 
working  its  jaws,  as  if  chewing,  the  entrails  of  that 
man  will  at  once  be  cut  to  i)ieces  and  he  will  die. 

A  considerable  projjortion  of  the  "  medicine"  per- 
formances in  any  camp  have  to  do  with  healing. 
While  the  Indians  are  skilful  in  curing  sim})le  ail- 
ments and  in  surgery  of  a  certain  kind,  there  are 
many  more  serious  diseases  which  they  do  not  at  all 
comprehend,  and  for  which  they  have  no  medical 
treatment.  Such  diseases  they  believe  to  be  caused 
by  evil  spirits,  which  must  be  driven  away  by  the 
dream  power  of  the  doctor,  who  relies  for  help  on  this 
power  and  not  on  any  curative  agents.  The  treat- 
ment consists  of  burning  sweet-smelling  vegetation  to 
purify  the  air,  of  singing  and  praying  to  invoke  the 
help  of  the  power,  of  rattling  and  making  alarming 
sounds  to  frighten  away  the  evil  spirits,  and  of  suck- 
ing and  brushing  off  the  skin  of  the  patient  to  re- 
move the  mechanical  causes  of  the  disease.  The  dif- 
ferent operations  of  this  healing  process  have  often 
been  described.     Usually  such  treatment  gives  no  re- 


II 


I 


i. 


!i!l 


17(J 


TlIK  STORY   OF  TIIK    INDIAN. 


lief  and  tho  i)iiticiit  (lio.«,  but  in  wounds  or  otlior  in- 
juries tlioso  doctors  luivo  u  success  wiiicli  oftentimes  is 
very  reniiirkiible.  In  anotiu>r  }»lace  I  liavo  given  soni(3 
examples  of  tliis  success,  aiul  I  add  lierc  two  other 
cases  where  men  luive  cured  tliemselves  or  were  cured 
byotliers  througli  dream  power.  Some  of  tliese  stories 
come  from  eyewitnesses. 

A  small  i)arty  of  Pieo^ans  were  camped  at  Fort 
Brule,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Marias  IJiver,  when,  one 
morning  about  daylight,  a  war  party  of  etieniies 
rushed  npon  them.  The  gates  of  tlie  fort  W(!ro 
barred,  so  some  of  the  women  i)ut  up  their  travois 
against  the  stockade  and  climbed  over  the  walls  for 
shelter,  while  some  dug  pits  in  the  ground  outside 
the  stockade.  A  very  licavy  fight  began.  I'wo 
women  and  one  man  were  killed  just  outside  tho 
stockade  door  by  a  hmco  in  the  hands  of  a  Crec. 

There  was  another  camp  of  Piegans  not  far  ofT, 
and  when  tho  light  began  one  of  the  Indians  ran 
from  Fort  Prulo  and  told  these  others  that  tho 
Crees  ■were  attacking  them.  A  party  of  warriors  hur- 
ried down,  and  when  they  reached  the  fort,  the  Crees 
began  to  retreat.  The  Piegans  followed  them,  and 
the  two  parties  took  their  stand  on  a  ridge,  the  Crees 
on  one  side  and  the  Piegans  on  the  other.  A  Piegan 
named  AVhite  ]k>ar  was  trying  to  get  closer  to  the 
enemy,  and  a  Creo  crept  np  close  to  liim  and  shot 
him  through  the  body,  tho  ball  entering  at  tho  kid- 
neys and  coming  out  at  tho  shoulders.  His  compan- 
ions dragged  the  man  to  the  camp.  lie  was  still 
breathing  when  they  got  him  to  tho  camp.  Soon 
after  ho  died. 

There  was  an  old  woman  in  the  camp,  a  very  power- 
ful doctor,  and  when  she  saw  that  the  man  was  dead. 


u 


c 

5S 
if 

c 

0) 


> 
I 


l\ 


MAN    AND   N ATI' UK. 


177 


kIio  took  licr  l)!!!!;!!!)  I'dltc  and  piiiiitccl  it  on  \\\o  licad 
ami  on  tlio  ))a('k  and  di»\vn  the  sides.  She  covered  tlio 
l)(iy  willi  tile  painted  robe,  and  tliei\  asked  for  a  disii 
of  Vi'lloW  clav  and  some  water.  Wlieii  tliese  uere 
broni^lit  to  lier,  slio  nntied  from  Wlute  liear's  neck  the 
skin  of  a  iitlle  niolo  tliat  lie  used  t(»  carry  altont,  and 
i»ut  tliis  skin  in  tlu'  disli  of  vellow  clav.  Then  she 
Ix'LTan  to  siii^^  jier  medicine!  sonir,  and  went  up  to  the 
(lead  man  and  cauuiit  him  hy  the  liltli!  Iiji;,^er  and  shook 
liim,  ami  said,  "' Wako  up."  At  this  time  th(!  lod;;i' 
Avas  crowded  fnll,and  many  stood  about  lookini,'  under 
the  lodij^e  skins,  which  wero  raised.  The  woman  would 
sliako  the  robe  which  lay  on  the  man,  and  say,  '•  Wake 
lip;  you  aro  wanted  to  smoke."  After  slie  had  doiio 
this  four  times,  the  fourth  time  slio  did  it,  tliis  man 
moved.  A\  hen  lie  mo\(.'d,  the  old  wtuiian  asked  that 
tlio  ])ii)0  bo  liglited.  This  was  doiu!  and  the  jiiju; 
handed  to  lier,  and  after  taking  a  small  smoke  and 
making  a  prayer  to  the  ghosts,  she  said  to  the  young 
man,  "  Wako  np,"  and  at  the  same  time  pulled  the 
robe  oir  him.  "White  liear  stairgered  to  liis  feet  and 
reached  out  his  hand  to  take  the  I'ipo,  but  the  old 
vcman  kept  backing  away  from  him,  till  she  came  to 
uhere  stood  the  dish  of  vellow  chalk  with  the  skin  in 
it.  There  the  man  took  the  i)i|)e  and  began  to  smoke, 
and  the  blood  poured  from  both  the  bullet  boles.  Uo 
sat  down  beside  the  dish  that  had  the  mole  in  it,  and 
finally  lay  down  and  smoked,  and  when  he  smoked  he 
blew  the  smoke  toward  the  mole  and  the  yellow  elay. 
When  ho  had  finished  smoking  he  covered  the  mole- 
skin over  with  a  })iece  of  buckskin,  and  then  after  a 
minute  or  two  took  the  skin  off,  and  the  mole  was  there 
alive,  scratching  and  digging  in  the  yellow  clay,  lie 
hiy  down  beside  it,  and  the  mole  left  the  dish,  ran  over 


n 


ITS 


TIIK  STORY   OF  TIIi:   IMUAN. 


1     ; 

V    ! 

Xjj' 

i  : 

oil  to  his  l)()(ly,  wi'iit  to  tln'  hiillfl  li  )1(',  put  liis  lioad 
in  it,  uiid  Im'^^'jiii  t<»  |iiiil  nut  clois  (.f  blood.  After  it 
had  done  this  ut  out-  liulc,  it  ran  to  the  otiicr  and  did 
tiiu  satiu'  tiiiii;,^  and  wlicn  it  iiad  (h)no  that,  it  went 
liack  to  the  dish  and  ri'!naiiu'(l  tiicro,  and  White  Hear 
a,Lfain  covered  it  with  the  piece  of  huckskin.  Tiieii 
he  took  it  oil',  and  \siien  iu'  did  so,  tiiere  was  nothin;^ 
tliere  l)nt  thc^  stnlVcd  skin.  After  lie  had  suiil,'  a  son;,% 
Whiter  l»ear made  a  s])ei'cli,  savin*,'  that  he  had  been 
dead,  hut  now  ho  liad  come  to  life,  and  that  after  four 
ni,Ldits  he  would  bo  well.  Tho  fourth  day  ho  was  ablo 
to  go  about. 

A  few  days  afi-r  lie  was  able  to  get  about,  White 
Bear  started  out  as  li-ach-r  of  a  war  party  against  tho 
Pond  d'Oreilles.  Ono  day,  as  they  were  inarching 
along,  he  said  to  his  fellows,  "  I  am  going  ahead  to 
SCO  what  I  can  discover.''  A  war  l)arty  of  tho  eiio- 
mv  saw  him  coming,  and  lav  in  ambush  for  him 
in  a  ravine.  As  he  was  walking  along  with  folded 
arms,  they  tired  on  him,  and  a  ball  went  through  his 
Avrist  and  through  his  body.  His  party  were  not  far 
behind,  and  when  they  heard  the  shooting,  they  rushed 
np  and  drove  off  tho  enemy  and  saved  their  leader. 
When  tho  light  was  ovi-r  White  Jiear  said:  "I  am 
badly  hurt.     Wo  will  have  to  go  back." 

They  started  back,  and  when  they  reached  tho 
camp  White  ]iear  was  nearly  dead.  They  thought 
ho  was  ffoinjx  to  dio.  Tho  same  doctoring  was  m-)no 
through  with  that  liad  been  i)erformcd  a  few  days 
before,  and  with  the  same  result.  White  Bear  was 
cured. 

Here  is  another  cxami)lo  : 

Tho  Big  Snake — a  Piegan — went  to  war.  They 
passed  along  through   tho  Cut  Bank  country  to  go 


MAN   AM)   NATL' UK. 


1 TU 


uiniss  the  moimtiiins,  and  took  tliodood  Ifnlr  tliroiiL'h 
flic  .Mountains  (Cadottf)  pass.  (Mic  day,  as  tlicy  wiTu 
^'oin^  alon;.%  tlicy  met  a  war  party  of  Crows.  'I'lio 
Crows  saw  tlicni  first,  ami  lav  in  ainlmsli  for  tlu-in. 
As  tlicy  were  walkin;^:  aloni;,  a  volley  was  lircd  on  tlicin, 
and  the  ica<icr  was  shot  down  and  killcil.  Another 
one  of  the  party  was  wounded,  hut  the  l'ic,^Miis  rtishe(l 
on  the  Crows  and  drove  them  olT. 

The  l*ie,l,^•lns  started  back,  aiul  when  they  had 
readied  the  .Muddy,  the  wounded  man  was  nearly 
dead.  This  man  had  with  him  the  stulled  skin  of  u 
curlew. 

When  lie  found  that  ho  could  <jjo  no  further,  he 
stoppeil  and  asked  his  companions  to  sin^  his  medi- 
cine son^%  saying  that  ho  would  try  wh.'ther  ho  could 
do  anytliin<;  for  himself.  A  sack  of  red  paint  was  got 
out  and  untied,  and  he  put  the  curlew  skin  down  on 
the  paint.  The  jii[)e  was  lilled  and  handed  to  him 
lighted,  and  when  he  smoked  he  blew  the  smoke  down 
onto  the  curlew  skin.  After  the  second  song  was  sung, 
the  curlew  got  u\)  and  shook  itself,  and  dusted  itself 
ill  the  red  paint.  The  man  lay  down  on  a  robe  sjjrcad 
out  for  him,  and  the  curlew  left  the  i)aint  and  walked 
up  to  him.  It  })ut  its  bill  down  in  the  wound  and 
worked  it  about,  doing  this  several  times.  Then  the 
man  turned  over  on  his  back,  and  the  bird  did  the 
same  thing  to  the  other  wound,  every  now  and  then 
uttering  its  call.  After  it  had  done  this,  it  walked  over 
to  the  red  paint  and  sat  down  in  it,  and  they  covered  it 
over  with  a  skin.  When  they  took  the  skin  olf,  the 
bird  was  gone,  and  there  was  only  the  bird's  skin 
there.  The  man  got  well  at  once.  White  Calf  saw 
this  himself. 

Other  stories  are  told  in  which  the  skin  of  a  weasel 
18 


ill 


II I 


•  'I! 
It 


n 


180 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


and  a  .skunk  Lcoamo  alive  and  worked  .sirnihir  cures, 
and  the  li.st  nii<]fht  be  iiidelinitely  prolonged. 

If  a  white  man  saw  such  things  as  these  happen  he 
could  not  explain  them,  and  would  be  likely  to  con- 
sider them  the  work  of  the  devil,  or  at  least  of  some 
supernatural  power.  The  Iiulians  cannot  explain 
them  either;  and  believing  the  evidence  of  their  eyet!, 
they  also  believe  that  these  tilings  are  done  by  the 
dream,  or  the  secret  helper,  of  the  person  who  exer- 
cises the  power. 

AH  these  things  which  we  s])eak  of  as  medicine  the 
Indian  calls  mysterious,  and  when  he  calls  them  mys- 
terious this  oidy  means  that  they  are  beyond  his  power 
to  account  for,  that  they  are  inexplicable.  AVe  say 
that  the  Indian  calls  whisky  "  medicine  water."  He 
really  calls  it  mysterious  water — that  is,  water  which 
acts  in  a  way  that  he  can  not  understand,  making  him 
dizzy,  liappy,  drunk.  In  the  same  M'ay  some  tribes 
call  the  horse  "medicine  dog,"  and  the  gun  "medi- 
cine iron,"  meaning  mysterious  dog  and  mysterious 
iron.  lie  wliom  we  call  a  medicine  man  may  be  a 
doctor,  a  healer  of  diseases;  or  if  he  is  a  juggler,  a 
worker  of  magic,  he  is  a  mystery  man.  All  Indian 
languages  have  words  which  are  the  equivalents  of  our 
word  medicine,  something  with  curative  properties; 
but  the  Indian's  translation  of  "  medicine,"  used  in 
the  sense  of  magical  or  supernatural,  would  be  myste- 
rious, inexplicable,  unaccountable. 

The  word  "  medicine,"  as  we  use  it  in  this  connec- 
tion, is  from  the  French  word  for  doctor.  The  early 
trappers  saw  the  possessors  of  this  supernatural  power 
use  it  in  healing,  and  called  the  man  who  empldved  it 
a  medccin  or  doctor.  From  calling  the  doctor  medecin^ 
it  was  an  easy  transition  to  call  his  power  by  the  same 


MAN   AND   NATUUi:. 


1«1 


name,  and  tlic  similarity  in  sound  of  the  English  and 
Freneh  words  made  tlie  term  readily  adopted  by  Eii«r- 
Iish-si)eaking  ])eoi)le.  The  term  "medicine  man^" 
originally  meant  doctor  or  healer,  but  one  wlio  effected 
his  cures  by  supernatural  power.  So  at  last  "medi- 
cine "  came  to  mean  tiiis  power,  and  "  medicine  man  " 
the  person  who  controlled  the  power,  and  the  notion 
of  curing  or  healing  became  in  a  measure  lost. 


i 

. 

':      ': 


I  ^  1 

■I 


CHAPTER  XI. 


HIS  CREATIOX. 


it 


CiviLiZKD  man  has  devoted  mucli  time  to  speou- 
lation  and  tlieory  as  to  the  orijjin  of  the  Indian  with- 
out  as  vet  reaehinij  any  definite  conchision.  Tlie  red 
man  has  been  assigned  to  di liferent  races,  and  has  been 
called  a  Hebrew,  a  Malay,  and  a  Chinaman.  Whence 
he  came  we  do  not  know,  but  it  is  certain  tliat  he  has 
inhabited  this  continent  for  a  very  long  time — long 
enough  to  have  established  hero  a  well-ditferentiated 
race,  about  whose  purity  and  antiquity  there  is  no 
question.  The  curious  resemblances  to  other  races 
Avhich  have  so  often  been  noticed  are  probably  en- 
tirely fortuitous. 

But  if  the  white  man  gropes  in  darkness  searching 
for  light  as  to  this  origin,  the  Indian  himself  has  no 
such  doubts.  Each  tribe  has  a  definite  story  of  its 
own  creation,  which  has  been  handed  down  by  oral 
tradition  from  father  to  son  for  many  generations.  A 
considerable  nnmber  of  these  myths  have  been  record- 
ed, and  they  are  of  great  interest  as  shedding  some 
light  on  the  primitive  beliefs  of  a  wholly  primitive 
people.  Such  traditions  have  unquestionably  under- 
gone certain  changes  in  process  of  transmission,  but 
the  modifications  and  additions  are,  I  think,  less  con- 
siderable than  is  commonly  believed.  The  Indian  pre- 
serves in  a  remarkable  way  the  tales  handed  down  to 

183 


Ills  CllEATlUX. 


183 


liim  from  his  ancestors.  To  him  siicli  traditions  liave 
a  certain  sanctity,  and  he  does  not  consciouslv  clianiro 
tliem.  Tiiey  are,  as  it  were,  chapters  from  liis  sacred 
book,  and  in  repeating  tliem  lie  tries  to  give  them  ex- 
actly as  they  have  been  told  to  him.  In  receiving 
these  and  other  traditions  from  the  Indians,  I  have 
often  been  interested  to  see  the  pains  taken  to  give 
each  tale  in  its  proper  form — to  tell  the  story  exactly 
as  it  should  be  told.  If  in  the  course  of  his  narration 
the  speaker's  memory  proves  at  fault  on  any  point,  ho 
will  consult  authorities,  asking  the  opinions  of  old 
men  who  are  best  acquiunted  with  the  story,  refresh- 
ing his  memory  by  their  assistance,  fully  discussing 
the  doubtful  point,  and  weighing  each  remark  and 
suggestion  with  care  before  continuing  his  tale. 

The  creation  stories  of  the  various  tribes  are  quite 
different,  though  in  those  which  are  akin  there  is  usu- 
ally more  or  less  similarity.  Often  the  stories  are  told 
Avith  much  detail*  In  some  cases  the  very  spot  at 
which  their  ancestors  first  had  life  is  described,  but 
in  others  no  locality  is  assigned  to  the  event.  Such 
stories  usually  include,  besides  the  mere  act  of  cre- 
ation, the  early  history  of  the  tribes,  and  an  account 
of  how  his  primitive  weapons  and  some  instruction 
as  to  the  manner  of  using  them  were  given  to  early 
man. 

Sometimes  the  fact  of  creation  is  given  in  general 
terms  only,  or  again  the  material  used,  and  the  differ- 
ent acts  performed  in  shaping  man  and  giving  him 
life  are  described  with  some  minuteness.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  earliest  stories  that  we  have  of  some  tribes 
describe  them  as  already  existing,  but  in  some  far-away 


^     ii: 


i  i>  '  >l' 


■*  See  The  RIackfoot  Genesis.     Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,  p.  137. 


I 


i  f 


i 


184 


THE  STOIIY  OP  TflE   INDIAN. 


I  'l^ 


11 


pliice,  or  porliaps  under  the  groiURl,  or  beneath  tlie 
surface  of  a  hike. 

Such  tales,  bearing  as  they  usually  do  on  the  first 
acts  of  the  Creator,  who  is  the  principal  God,  have  an 
intimate  connection  with  the  religious  beliefs  of  the 
tribes,  and  are  a  part  of  their  religious  history.  In  an 
article*  published  in  1893  I  gave  the  creation  myth 
of  the  Pawnees.     I  quote  the  substance  of  it  liere  : 

Tirawa  is  the  Creator.  He  made  the  mountains, 
the  prairies,  and  the  rivers. 

The  men  of  the  present  era  were  not  the  original 
inhabitants  of  the  earth.  They  were  preceded  by 
another  race  —  people  of  great  size  and  strengtii. 
These  were  so  swift  of  foot,  and  so  powerful,  that 
tliey  could  easily  run  down  and  kill  the  buffalo.  A 
great  bull  was  readily  carried  into  camp  on  the  back 
by  tliese  giants,  and  when  a  calf  or  a  yearling  was 
killed,  the  man  thrust  its  head  under  his  belt  and  car- 
ried it  dangling  against  his  leg,  as  the  men  of  to-day 
carry  a  rabbit.  Often  when  these  people  overtook  a 
buffalo  they  would  strike  it  with  their  hands,  or  kick 
it  with  the  foot,  to  knock  it  down,  and  to-day,  the  Ari- 
karas  say,  you  can  see  the  marks  of  these  blows — the 
prints  of  the  hands  and  the  feet — on  the  flesh  of  the 
buffalo  beneath  the  skin,  where  these  people  kicked 
and  scratched  the  animals. 

The  race  of  giants  had  no  respect  for  the  Ruler. 
On  the  contrary,  they  derided  and  insulted  him  in 
every  way  possible.  When  the  sun  rose,  or  when  it 
thundered  and  rained,  they  would  defy  him.  They 
had  great  confidence  in  their  own  powers,  and  believed 
that  they  were  able  to  cope  with  the  Creator.    As  they 


*  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  vol.  vi,  p.  113,  1893. 


HIS  CIIKATIOX. 


J  85 


increased  in  numbers  tliey  ^ijrcw  more  deliant,  and  at 
lengtii  became  so  bad  that  Tiratcd  determined  to  de- 
stroy tlicm.  This  lie  attempted  to  do  at  first  by  slioot- 
ing  the  lightning  at  tiiein  ;  but  the  bolts  glanced  aside 
from  their  bodies  without  injuring  them.  When  he 
found  that  they  could  not  be  killed  by  that  means,  he 
sent  a  great  rain,  which  destroyed  them  by  drowning. 
The  grouiul  became  water-soaked  and  soft,  and  these 
hirgo  and  heavy  people  sank  into  it  aiul  were  engulfed 
in  the  mire.  The  great  fossil  bones  of  jnastodons,  ele- 
phants, and  JiroiitotlieridiB  are  said  to  be  the  bones  of 
these  giants  ;  and  that  such  remains  are  often  found 
sticking  out  of  cut  banks,  or  in  deep  canons,  buried 
under  many  feet  of  earth,  is  deemed  conclusive  evi- 
dence that  the  giants  did  sink  into  the  soft  earth  and 
so  perish. 

After  the  giant  race  had  passed  away,  TinUca  cre- 
ated a  new  peojjle,  a  man  and  a  woman,  who  were  like 
those  now  on  the  earth.  These  people  were  at  first 
poor,  naked,  and  were  without  any  knowledge  of  how 
they  should  live  ;  but  after  a  time  the  Creator  gave 
tliem  the  corn,  the  buifalo,  and  the  wild  roots  and 
fruits  of  the  prairie  for  food,  bows  and  arrows  to  kill 
their  game,  and  fire  sticks  to  furnish  a  means  of  cook- 
ing it.  The  Rider  provided  for  them  these  various 
things,  such  as  trees  bearing  fruits,  and  things  that 
grow  in  the  ground,  artichokes,  wild  turnips,  and 
other  roots.  In  the  rivers  he  put  fish,  and  on  the 
land  game.  All  these  things,  everything  good  to  eat 
found  on  the  plains  or  in  the  timber,  w;is  given  to 
them  by  Tirdivn. 

All  these  gifts  Avere  presented  to  the  Pawnees  in 
the  country  in  which  they  were  originally  created,  and 
which,  as  clearly  appears  from  the  statements  of  the 


|,  Ri^ 


If- 


J 


&        I 


i  !',   ! 


ISO 


Tin-:   STORY   OF   TIIH   INDIAN. 


ohk'st  nioii,  Wi'.s  fur  to  the  soutlnvost.  It  was  in  tlii.s 
ori'MUiil  comitrv  tliiit  tlio  Pawiict's  received  their  sucred 
bun. lies.  When  they  were  given  them,  the  })e()ple 
knew  notliing  of  iron,  but  used  Hint  knives  and  iir- 
rowheads.  The  bundles  arc  said  to  have  been  lianded 
down  frotn  the  Fatiier,  thougli  in  certain  cases,  special 
stories  are  told  how  particular  bundles  came  to  be  re- 
ceived. 

A  more  detailed  account  of  the  creation  and  the 
doings  of  the  original  people  is  given  by  the  Arikaras, 
but  it  is  not  in  all  respects  like  that  told  by  the  Paw- 
nees, for  these  two  tribes,  though  belonging  to  the 
same  family,  separated  loTig  ago.  This  story,  which 
is  generally  known  in  the  Arikara  tribe,  has  come 
to  me  from  various  sonrces.  Two  Ciows — the  chief 
priest  and  the  fountain  of  sacred  learning  for  the  tribe 
— I'ahnkatawa,  Fighting  Bear,  and  others  have  given 
mc  portions  of  this  history;  but  the  most  com])lete 
account  I  owe  to  the  kindness  of  the  Ilev.  C.  L.  Hall, 
who  liad  it  from  a  IJee  known  as  Peter  Rurdash,  and 
lie  received  it  direct  from  Ka-ka-pit'ka  (Two  Crows), 
the  priest.  The  account  is  as  follows  :  In  the  begin- 
ning Atiuch  (=  Pawnee  Alius)  created  the  earth  and 
a  people  of  stone.  These  people  were  so  strong  that 
they  had  no  need  of  the  Creator,  and  would  not  obey 
him.  They  even  defied  him;  so  he  determined  to  put 
an  end  to  them.  lie  therefore  caused  a  great  rain, 
which  fell  coiitinuously  for  many  days,  until  the  land 
Wiis  all  covered  with  water,  and  the  trees  were  dead  and 
the  tops  of  the  hills  were  submerged.  ^lany  of  these 
people  being  big  and  heavy,  and  so  able  to  moA'e  only 
slowly,  could  not  reach  the  tops  of  the  hills,  to  wdiich 
all  tried  to  escape  for  safety,  and  even  those  who  did 
so  were  drowned  by  the  rising  waters,  which  at  last 


HIS  CRKATIOX. 


IS' 


covered  the  wliolo  liuul.  Kvervtliiiii?  on  the  oarth  was 
(lead.  To-diiy  in  tlio  washed  ehiy  bhiil's  of  the  bad 
hinds  tlio  liorizontal  linos  of  stratilieation  are  shown 
as  marking  the  level  of  the  waters  at  various  times 
during  this  Hood,  and  the  hard  sandstone  })innaeles 
"whieh  cap  the  blults,  and  which  sometimes  present  a 
rude  semblance  of  the  human  form,  are  pointed  out 
us  the  remains  of  these  giants. 

Now  when  everything  was  dead,  there  were  left  a 
mosquito  Hying  about  over  the  water  and  a  little  duck 
swimming  on  it.  These  two  met,  and  the  duck  said 
to  the  mosquito,  "  How  is  it  that  you  are  here  V  "  The 
mos(|uito  said,  "  I  can  live  on  this  foam  ;  how  is  it 
with  you?"  The  duck  answered,  "  When  I  am  hun- 
gry, I  can  dive  down  and  eat  the  green  we.'d  that  grows 
under  the  water."  Then  said  the  moscjuito  :  "  I  am 
tired  of  this  foam.  If  you  will  take  me  with  you  to 
taste  of  the  thin<rs  of  the  earth,  I  shall  know  that  vou 
are  true."  So  the  duck  took  the  moscpiito  under 
his  wing,  where  he  would  keep  dry,  and  dived  down 
■with  him  to  the  bottom  of  the  water,  and  as  soon  as 
they  touched  the  ground  all  the  water  disaj)pearcd. 
There  Avas  now  nothing  living  on  the  earth. 

Then  At  inch  determined  that  he  w'ould  again  make 
men,  and  he  did  so.  But  again  he  made  them  too 
nearly  like  himself.  They  were  too  powerful,  and  he 
was  afraid  of  them,  and  again  destroyed  them  all. 

Then  he  made  one  man  like  the  men  of  to-day. 
When  this  man  had  been  created  he  said  to  himself  ; 
"llow  is  it  now?  There  is  still  something  that  does 
not  quite  please  me."  Then  Atiurh  made  a  woman, 
and  set  her  by  the  man,  and  the  man  said  :  "  You 
knew  why  I  was  not  pleased.  You  knew  what  I 
wanted.     Xow  I  can  walk  the  earth  in  gladness." 


1S8 


TIIK  STORY  OF  THE  IN  I)  I  AX. 


m 


II  ill 


Atiurh  soonia  to  luivc  iniidc  men  and  tlio  aniniuls 
\\\^  above  in  tlie  sky  where  lie  lives,  and  when  ho  was 
i*..tislied  with  wliat  ho  had  made,  he  resolved  to  |:laco 
tlicm  upon  the  earth.  So  he  called  tlie  li^ditning  to 
jHit  them  on  the  earth,  and  the  lighttiin^  caused  a 
cloud  to  come,  and  the  cloud  received  what  A  finch 
had  made,  liut  the  li^htnin<j,  acting  as  he  always 
does,  set  them  down  on  the  earth  with  a  crash,  and  as 
the  ground  was  still  wet  with  the  water  that  had  cov- 
ered it,  they  all  sank  into  the  soft  earth.  This  nuide 
the  lightning  feel  very  badlv,  and  he  cried  ;  and  to  this 
day,  whenever  he  strikes  the  earth,  he  cries.  That  is 
what  we  hear  wheii  it  thunders. 

Now  all  living  things  were  under  the  ground  in 
confusion  and  asking  one  another  what  each  was; 
but  one  day,  as  the  mole  was  digging  around,  ho 
broke  a  hole  through,  so  that  the  light  streamed  in, 
and  he  drew  back  frightened,  lie  has  never  had 
any  eyes  since;  the  light  put  them  out.  The  mole 
did  not  want  to  come  out,  but  all  the  others  came 
out  on  to  the  earth  through  the  hole  the  mole  had 
made. 

After  they  had  come  out  from  the  ground,  the 
people  looked  about  to  sec  where  they  should  go. 
Thev  had  nothing.  Thev  did  not  know  what  to  do, 
uor  how  to  support  themselves.  They  began  to  travel, 
moving  very  slowly;  but  after  their  third  day's  camp 
a  boy,  who  had  been  left  behind  asleep  at  the  first 
camp  that  they  had  made,  overtook  the  company, 
carrying  in  his  arms  a  large  bundle.  The  people 
asked  him  what  this  was.  He  replied  that  when  ho 
woke  up  and  found  the  people  gone,  ho  cried  to 
Father  for  help,  and  Father  gave  him  this  bundle, 
which  had  taught  him  to  find  the  way  to  his  people. 


I4< 


Ills   CUKATION'. 


ISO 


Tlion  tlio  people  were  pliul,  and  siiid  tliat  now  tlioy 
would  tind  tlie  wav,  and  tlicv  went  on. 

After  tliev  luid  L'one  a  Ion*;  wav,  tliev  eatne  to  a 
deep  ravine  with  liigli  steep  banks,  and  they  eouhl 
not  eross  it.  Tiiere  they  liad  to  stop.  All  came  to 
this  place,  but  they  could  not  fi^et  over  it.  'J'hey 
asked  the  boy  what  they  should  do,  and  he  openi'd 
the  bundle,  and  out  of  it  caine  a  bird  with  a  sharp 
bill  * — the  most  sacred  of  all  birds,  the  bone  striker. 
Wherever  this  bird  strikes  its  bill,  it  makes  a  hoK'. 
This  bird  ilew  over  the  ravine  and  began  to  strike 
the  bank  with  his  bill,  and  Hew  against  the  bank 
again  and  again,  and  at  last  the  dirt  fell  down  and 
filled  up  the  ravine  and  made  a  road  for  the  ])eo])le 
to  pass  across.  A  part  of  them  passed  over,  but  be- 
fore all  had  crossed,  the  road  closed  uj),  and  the  ravine 
became  as  it  had  been  at  first.  Those  who  were  be- 
hind perished.  ^I'hey  were  changed  into  badgers, 
snakes,  and  animals  living  in  the  ground.  They 
went  on  further,  and  at  length  came  to  a  thick  wood 
— so  thick  that  thev  could  not  pass  through  it.  Here 
they  had  to  stop,  for  they  did  not  know  how  they 
could  get  through  this  timber.  Again  they  asked  the 
boy  what  should  be  done,  and  he  opened  the  bundle, 
and  an  owl  came  out  from  it  and  went  into  the  wood 
and  made  a  path  through  it.  A  number  of  the  peo- 
ple got  through  the  wood,  but  some  old  women  and 
poor  children  were  lagging  behind,  and  the  road 
closed  up  and  caught  them,  and  these  were  changed 
to  bears,  wildcats,  elks,  and  so  on. 

The  people  went  on  further,  and  came  to  a  big 
river  which  poured  down  and  stopped  them,  and  they 

*  Tills  is  thought  to  be  a  woodpecker  {CohiptcK). 


■(•  y 


li)0 


TIIH  STUIIY   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


waited  (Hi  tlio  bunk.  WIumi  tlicv  went  to  tlic  bundle, 
u  bi;^^  liuwk  ciuiie  out  of  it.  This  ))ird  Hew  aeross 
the  river  und  ciiiised  the  water  to  stop  flowing',  'i'iiey 
started  across  the  dry  river  bed,  and  when  })art  had 
gone  ueross  and  were  on  tliis  side,  and  some  old 
women  and  poor  children  were  still  in  the  stream  bed, 
the  water  began  to  How  again  and  drowned  them. 
'I'hese  iH'ople  were  turned  into  fishes,  and  this  is  why 
lishes  are  related  to  men. 

'I'hev  went  on  until  thev  eatne  to  some  high  hills 
called  the  Jilue  Mountains,  and  from  these  mountains 
thev  saw  a  beautiful  countrv  that  thev  thought  would 
be  good  to  live  in;  but  when  they  coiu.dted  the  boy 
who  carried  the  bundle,  ho  said,  "  No,  we  shall  see 
life  and  live  in  it."     So  they  went  on. 

Soon  after  this,  some  pco])le  began  to  gamble,  and 
one  party  won  everything  that  the  others  had,  and  at 
last  they  began  to  quarrel  and  then  to  fight,  and  the 
people  separated  and  went  dilTerent  ways,  aiul  the 
animals,  which  had  all  this  time  been  with  them,  got 
frightened  and  ran  away.  ]5ut  some  of  the  people 
still  remained,  and  they  asked  the  boy  what  they 
should  do,  and  lie  went  to  the  bundle  and  took  from 
it  a  pipe,  and  when  he  held  up  the  pipe  the  fighting 
ceased.  With  the  pipe  was  a  stone  arrowhead,  and 
the  boy  told  them  they  must  make  others  like  this, 
for  from  now  on  they  would  have  to  fight ;  but  be- 
fore this  there  had  been  no  war.  In  the  bundle  they 
found  also  an  ear  of  corn.  The  boy  said:  "  Wc  are 
to  live  by  this.  This  is  our  Mother."  The  corn 
taught  them  how  to  make  bows  and  arrows. 

Xow  the  peoi)le  no  longer  spoke  one  hinguage, 
and  the  eight  tribes  who  had  run  away  no  longer 
understood  each  other  and  lived  together,  but  wan- 


Ills  CKKATION. 


VJ\ 


ilcrcd  about,  1111(1  tlic  Mother  (Afi/ni  =  I'uwik'O  Afini) 
no  loii'^'f-r  ivmaiiu'd  with  tliciii,  l»iit  left  iIkmii  aloiu-. 
'I'lie  ninth  or  ivinaiiiiiij^  haiul — wliich  iiichulccl  tliu 
Ki'cs,  Maiitlaiis,  and  PawJioos — now  left  the  lUiic 
Mountaiii.s  ami  travi'lk-d  on  until  tiicv  rcachi'd  a ''rcat 
river,  and  then  tliev  knew  wiiat  tiie  bov  meant  bv 
vsayin,i(  "  We  sliall  see  life  and  live  in  it."  liife  meant 
the  Missouri  Kiver,  and  they  said,  "This  is  the  place 
wlierc  our  Mother  means  us  to  live."  'I'he  lirst  ni<iht 
they  staved   bv   the  river,  but   thev   went  ofl*  in   the 

V  fc  V  V 

morniiiL,'  and  left  behind  them  two  dogs  asleep.  One 
was  black,  the  other  white;  one  was  male,  the  other 
female.  At  the  third  camp  they  said,  "  This;  is  a 
gooil  place;  we  will  live  here."  They  asked  the  boy 
what  they  shoidil  do,  and  ho  told  them  that  they 
should  separate  into  three  bamls;  that  lie  would  di- 
vide tiio  corn  among  them,  and  they  could  plant  it. 
He  broke  oW  the  nub  and  gave  it  to  the  Manilans,  the 
big  end  and  gave  it  to  the  Pawncs,  and  the  middle  of 
the  ear  he  gave  to  the  Rees.  To  this  day  the  Maiuhms 
liave  the  shortest  corn,  the  Rees  next  in  size,  and  the 
Pawnees  the  best  and  largest.  He  also  took  from  the 
bundle  beans,  which  he  divided  auKmg  the  people, 
and  the  sack  of  a  buffalo's  heart  full  of  tobacco. 
]Iere  by  the  river  they  first  planted  and  ate,  ami  were 
well  olf,  while  the  eight  bands  that  liad  run  away 
were  dying  of  hunger.  When  they  got  here  they  luu,l  . 
no  fire.  They  knew  nothing  of  it.  They  tried  to  get 
it  from  the  sun,  and  sent  the  swallow  to  bring  it.  He 
Hew  toward  the  sun,  but  could  not  get  the  fire,  and 
came  back  saying  that  the  sun  had  burned  him.  This 
is  why  the  swallow's  back  is  black  to-day.  The  crow 
was  sent.  He  used  to  be  white,  but  the  sun  burned  him 
too.    Another  kind  of  bird  was  sent,  and  he  got  the  fire. 


ii 


r.>2 


TIIK  SToliY  nl'  Till:   INDIAN'. 


if- 


AfliT  this  tlicy  travcllcij  a^Miii,  ami  as  tlicy  trav- 
I'lli'il  tlicy  wtTi'  ('((Ijuwcd  liy  t \v<»  ;,M"«'!it  lircs,  (hat  catiic 
up  (III  the  hills  JH'hiiKl  thctii  and  shut  tluMit  in,  so  that 
tlicy  (lid  not  l\n«»\v  how  to  escape.  The  htindle  told 
them  to  ico  to  a  cedar  tree  on  a  pi'ccipice,  and  that  ii' 
they  held  last  to  this,  tlcy  wonld  not  he  hni't  hy  these 
two  L^icat  had  thiniTs.  They  did  so  and  escaped,  hat 
all  cedai's  have  heeii  ei'ooked  ever  since.  These  two 
great  fires  were  the  tw(»  doi;s  that  had  heeii  lel't  hehind 
ut  their  lii'st  camp,  'i'heso  doi;s  then  came  to  them 
and  said  :  ''  Oiir  hearts  are  not  all  had.  Wc  have  bit- 
ten yon  because  yon  left  us  without  waking'  us  up, 
bnt  now  we  have  had  our  reven<;e,  and  we  want  to  live 
with  you."  lint  sickness  and  death  have  followed  the 
peopl(^  ever  since  they  first  left  these  dogs  behind. 

The  dogs  were  taken  back  into  the  com}>any  and 
grew  old.  'I'he  female  dog  grew  old  and  poor  and 
(lied  first,  aiul  was  thrown  into  the  river,  and  after 
that  the  male  dog  died  ;  bnt  before  lie  died  they  said 
to  him,  "  Now  you  are  going  to  die  and  be  with  your 
>vife."  "Yes,"  lu^  rei)Iie(l.  "lint  you  will  not  hate 
Uii.  From  this  time  vou  will  eat  us,  and  so  vou  will 
think  well  of  us.  Aiul  from  the  fenude  dog's  skin  has 
come  the  s(iuash,  and  you  will  like  this,  and  on  this 
account,  also,  you  will  not  bate  us."  So  ever  since 
that  day,  dogs  have  been  raised  as  friends,  and  after- 
ward eaten  for  revenge,  because  of  tlieir  trcacliery. 

After  this,  they  looked  out  on  the  prairie  and 
saw  some  great  black  aninuds  having  horns,  and  they 
looked  as  though  they  were  going  to  attack  them. 
The  peo})]e  dug  a  hole,  and  got  in  and  covered  it 
over,  and  when  the  buffalo  rushed  on  them  they  were 
safe,  though  their  dwelling  trembled  and  the  people 
thought  the  roof  would  fall  in.      Finally  some  one 


(■' 


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I. 


ti 


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I      I 

I 


If  I 


HIS  CREATION. 


193 


looked  out  jukI  saw  the  bulTiilo  stiiiuliug  uroiiiul. 
They  did  not  h)ok  very  iierce,  so  forty  men,  women, 
and  children  ventured  out ;  but  the  bulTido  att:iek(>d 
them,  tore  oil*  their  arms  and  ate  them,  and  tore  oiT 
their  hair.  Ever  since  that  time  there  has  been  a  lock 
of  iiee  liair  in  the  butlalo's  moutli,  hanging  down 
from  his  chin.  One  handsome  young  woman  was  car- 
ried olf  by  the  bnll'alo.  They  held  a  council  to  know 
what  they  should  do  with  her.  She  said  she  could 
not  travel,  and  they  did  not  wish  to  kill  her.  They 
did  not  wish  to  let  her  go  either.  But  one  night,  when 
she  was  sleeping  in  the  midst  of  the  band,  a  young 
bull  came  to  her  and  pulled  lu-r  sleeve  and  told  her 
to  follow  him,  that  he  would  show  her  the  way  back 
to  her  people,  lie  did  so,  and  his  i)arting  words  to 
her  were  :  "Tell  your  people  that  we  do  not  like  the 
bows  and  arrows  that  they  make,  and  so  we  have  at- 
tacked you."  * 

The  yonng  woman  was  gladly  received,  'i'hey  askcil 
the  boy  with  the  bundle  what  should  be  done  with  the 
buffalo,  lie  answered:  "The  bulTalo  are  to  be  our 
food.  They  ate  ns  first,  so  now  we  will  always  fol- 
low them  for  food,     ^^'e  mnst  make  arrows  like  the 


*  The  Ali,'oii(iuiii  lUat'ldVot  also  tell  of  a  tunc  soon  after  Iho 
croation  wIumi  the  bulTalo  usod  to  oal  them.  This  was  before 
they  Iiad  l)o\vs  ami  arrows;  in  faet,  in  some  accounts  it  is  even 
said  that  then  the  peo[)le  liad  paws  like  tiie  l)ears,  and  supported 
themselves  by  di^';;ing  roots  and  gathering  berries.  When  i^'djii, 
the  lilackfoot  Creator,  learned  that  the  bulTalo  were  killing  and 
eating  the  people,  lie  felt  very  badly,  and  he  split  their  paws  so 
as  to  make  fingers  on  them,  and  made  bows  and  arrows  and 
taught  the  people  how  to  use  them.  There  is  also  a  Hlaekfoot 
story  of  a  young  woman  who  was  captured  and  taken  away 
by  the  buffalo,  and  who  afterward  returned  to  the  tribe.— See 
Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,  pp.  104  and  110. 


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19i 


THE  STOKV  OF   TlIK   INDIAN. 


Olio  Tuiiucd  (=  Ptiwnce  Tlrawa)  guvc  us  with  the  l)ipo, 
and  light  tliu  biitfalo  witli  tlioni."  After  iiial-ciiig  iiuiiiy 
urrows  of  tlio  iliiit  tlioy  use  for  striiving  iiios,  tiioy  all 
came  out  of  tiie  liole  iu  tlie  eartli  and  lived  by  jtlant- 
iug  and  hunting. 

The  liees  have  always  kept  near  the  ]\Ii,s.souri  Hivcr, 
and  have  lived  by  planting.  The  bundle  reputed 
to  have  been  given  to  the  boy  in  the  beginning  is 
now  in  the  house  of  Two  Crows.  It  is  still  powerful. 
It  contains  the  ear  of  corn  which  was  first  given  to 
the  Kees.  AVlien  a  great  young  man  dies — a  chief's 
son — and  the  people  mourn,  the  relations  are  asked  to 
the  Kee  medicine  lodge,  and  the  ear  of  corn  is  taken 
from  the  bundle,  put  for  a  short  time  in  a  bucket  of 
water  and  then  replaced  in  the  bundle.  As  many  as 
drink  of  that  water  are  cured  of  sad  hearts,  and  never 
mourn  their  friends  a'^ain. 


i     I 


« 


CHAPTER  XIT. 


THE    WOULD    OF   THE    DEAD. 


Like  most  people,  civilized  or  savage,  the  Indian 
believes  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  To  him  the 
future  life  is  very  real,  for  sometimes — in  dreams  or 
during  a  fainting  fit,  or  in  delirium  of  sickness — vi- 
sions come  to  him  which  he  believes  are  glimpses  into 
the  life  of  another  world — a  world  peopled  by  the 
spirits  of  the  departed.  It  is  always  difficult  to  induce 
the  Indian  to  formulate  his  views  on  the  future  life. 
Often  perhaps  he  has  none,  or  if  he  has  such  beliefs, 
like  our  own  on  the  same  subject,  they  are  vague  and 
hazy.  Besides  this,  Indians  are  little  accustomed  to 
deal  with  abstract  conceptions,  and  lack  words  to 
express  them.  Nevertheless,  some  notion  of  their  be- 
liefs may  be  gathered  from  the  accounts  which  they 
give  of  ghosts  and  the  ghost  country,  for  all  the  tribes 
have  tales  which  speak  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  spirit 
world,  and  tell  us  what  they  do  and  how  they  live. 
Such  stories  purport  to  come  from  those  who  have 
died  and  have  been  restored  to  life  again,  or  from  liv- 
ing persons  who  have  visited  the  country  where  the 
spirits  dwell,  and  then  returning  to  their  tribe  have 
reported  the  condition  and  the  ways  of  the  departed. 

The  views  held  of  this  world  of  the  dead  differ 
widely  in  different  tribes.     With  some  it  appears  to 
be  a  real  "happy  hunting  ground,"  a  country  of  wide 
14  1!)") 


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19« 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


green  prairies  and  cool  clear  streams,  where  the  bufTulo 
and  otlier  game  arc  alwtiys  plenty  and  fat,  where  the 
lodgers  are  ever  new  and  white,  the  ponies  always 
swift,  the  war  parties  successful,  and  the  pcoide  hap- 
py. Sometimes,  even  now,  tlie  Indian  of  the  soutii, 
when  the  slanting  ravs  of  tlie  westering  sun  tinire  the 
autumiud  haze  witli  red,  beholds  dimly,  far  away,  the 
wliite  lodges  of  such  a  happy  camp,  and,  dazzled  by 
the  tinted  beams,  sees  through  the  mist  and  dust 
ghostly  warriors  returning  from  the  buffalo  hunt, 
leading  horses  laden  as  in  olden  times  with  dripping 
meat  and  with  shaggy  skins.  A  speech  made  by  the 
spirit  of  a  Pawnee  woman  shows  the  feeling  that  these 
people  have  about  the  future  life.  This  woman  not 
long  after  her  death  appeared  to  her  husband,  who, 
holding  their  young  child  in  his  arms,  was  mourning 
for  her,  and  said  :  "  You  are  very  unhappy  here. 
There  is  a  place  to  go  where  we  would  not  be  unhappy. 
Where  I  have  been  nothing  bad  happens  to  one.  Here 
vou  never  know  what  evil  will  come  to  vou.  You  and 
the  child  had  better  come  to  me."  In  the  same  story 
father  and  mother  and  child  at  last  die,  and  it  is  said 
of  them,  "  They  have  gone  to  that  place  where  there  is 
a  living  " — strong  testimony  to  the  Pawnee's  faith  in 
a  happy  future  life.* 

With  other  tribes  the  ghost  country  is  a  land  of 
unrealities,  where  the  unhappy  shadows  endure  an 
existence  which  is  an  unsubstantial  mockery  of  this 
life.  Here  they  hunt  shadow  buffaloes  with  arrows, 
which,  on  being  lifted  from  the  ground,  are  found  to  be 
only  blades  of  grass ;  their  camps  or  their  buffalo  traps 
when  approached  vanish  from  sight ;  or  their  canoes, 

*  Pawnee  Hero  Stories  and  Folk- Tales,  p.  129. 


TIIK    WOULD   OF  THE   DEAD. 


11) 


though  roul  to  tlio  ghosts,  arc  to  mortal  eyes  rotten, 
inoss-covered  and  full  of  holes;  their  salmon  and  trout 
are  only  dead  branches  and  leaves,  lloating  on  tlie 
river's  current,  and  even  the  people  themselves,  thougli 
to  all  appearance  human,  turn  to  skeletons  if  a  word 
is  spoken  above  a  whisper. 

To  us,  who  have  been  reared  in  the  hope  of  an  im- 
mortality which  promises  happiness,  tliere  is  some- 
tliing  inexpressibly  patlietic  in  these  vague  concep- 
tions of  a  future  life  which  is  so  mucli  more  miserable 
than  the  savage  existence  in  this  world,  checkered 
though  it  is ;  for  even  to  the  savage,  while  he  is  still 
alive,  hope  always  remains.  If  his  camp  has  been  at- 
tacked, his  people  slain,  and  he  himself  is  a  fugitive, 
hiding  from  enemies  who  are  eager  to  take  his  life,  he 
looks  forward  to  a  time  when  he  shall  take  vengeance 
for  these  wrongs  and  destroy  tliose  who  have  injured 
him  ;  or  if  tlie  people  are  starving,  and  he  sees  his 
wives  and  little  ones  wasting  away  with  lumger,  he 
thinks  alwavs  that  to-morrow  mav  bring  the  buffalo 
and  plenty  and  contentment.  But  to  this  gloomy 
future  life  there  is  no  period.     It  must  go  on  forever. 

The  melancholy  views  of  a  future  state  held  by 
such  tribes  as  the  Blackfeet,  the  Gros  Ventres  of  the 
Prairie,  the  Chinooks,  and  some  other  Pacific  slope 
tribes,  present  singular  resemblances  to  those  ex- 
pressed in  the  earlier  Greek  and  Roman  mythology. 

The  spirits  of  the  dead  take  various  forms,  but 
they  are  always  unsubstantial  as  air,  though  to  the  eye 
they  may  appear  real.  They  are  frequently  seen  by 
living  persons,  but  are  likely  to  vanish  at  any  moment. 
The  tiny  whirlwinds  of  dust  often  seen  moving  about 
on  the  prairie  in  hot  summer  days  are  believed  by  the 
Pawnees  to  be  ghosts,  by  other  tribes  owls  are  thought 


IDS 


THK   STORY   OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


to  bo  <,'li().-Ls.  Sonu'tiinos  spirits  take  tlio  forms  of 
skeletons,  which  iimy  he  Jihle  to  wjilk  about,  or  they 
may  a])pear  as  ordinary  men  and  women.  It  seems 
possible  that  these  spirits  can  at  will  take  forms  such 
as  i)lease  them,  and  in  a  specific  case  a  ghost  appeared 
in  the  form  of  a  bear,  and  in  iinotber  it  took  the  shape 
of  a  wolf,  'i'o  see  a  ghost  is  by  no  means  an  evcry-day 
matter.  Much  more  often  they  are  heard  to  speak  or 
to  whistle,  and  such  sounds  terrify  those  who  hear 
them,  for  the  Indians  are  nnich  afraid  of  ghosts. 
Some  of  these  spirits  are  benellcent,  others  are  harm- 
ful, and  of  the  latter,  being  the  more  dreaded,  much 
more  is  heard  than  of  those  which  wield  kindly  pow- 
ers. The  hurtful  ghosts  frighten  people  by  tugging 
at  their  blankets  while  they  are  walking  through  the 
timber  at  night,  or  they  Avhistle  down  the  smokehole, 
or  tap  on  the  lodge  skins.  8uch  acts,  though  sulli- 
ciently  alarming,  are  not  in  themselves  very  serious, 
and  may  perhaps  be  indulged  in  only  for  the  sake  of 
frightening  people,  lint  the  spirits  that  are  really 
inimical  do  much  more  terrible  things  than  these. 
They  shoot  arrows  of  disease  at  people,  causing  rheu- 
matism, paralysis,  St.  Vitus's  dance,  long  wasting  ill- 
ness, and  oftentimes  death. 

The  actual  location  of  the  world  of  spirits — the 
home  of  the  dead — varies  with  the  tribe.  Many  of 
the  peoples  of  the  southern  plains  believe  to-day  that 
this  home  of  the  dead  is  above  us,  in  or  above  the 
sky ;  others  hold  that  it  is  to  the  west,  beyond  the  big 
water;  others  still  think  that  it  is  in  the  south  or  east. 
The  Blackfeet  locate  this  country  of  the  future  close 
to  their  present  home,  in  the  desolate  sandhills  south 
of  the  Saskatchewan  l\iver. 

Occasionally,  glimpses  are  seen  among  some  tribes 


TllK   WOULD   OF  THE   DKAl). 


lUl) 


of  ii  belief  in  the  transmigration  of  souls.  The  Khi- 
math  and  Modoc  Indians  believe  that  the  s])irits  of 
the  dead  inhabit  the  bodies  of  lishes.  The  ghosts  of 
medicine  men,  conjurors,  or  priests,  after  death  arc 
often  thought  to  take  the  shape  of  an  owl — always  a 
bird  of  mysterious,  if  not  su])ernatural,  powers — or  the 
soul  of  a  very  brave  man  might  after  death  iidiabit 
the  body  of  some  brave,  tierce  animal,  like  a  bear. 
Yet  this  is  not  supposed  to  happen  commonly,  nor  do 
the  helpful  animals  which  so  constantly  appear  in  the 
folk  stories  of  the  Indians  ever  seem  to  be  the  spirits 
of  those  who  have  lived  on  earth.  These  belong  to  a 
class  of  beings  entirely  dilTerent  from  mortals. 

On  the  other  hand,  in  the  creation  story  of  the 
Arikaras,  which  details  also  the  earlier  wanderings  of 
the  first  Indians,  it  is  said,  as  already  remarked,  that 
certain  people  who  were  overwhelmed  by  water,  by 
land  slides,  and  in  forest  fallings,  were  changed  into 
fishes  and  various  other  animals  which  live  principally 
under  ground  or  in  the  woods. 

Some  Indians  believe  in  reincarnation,  the  indi- 
vidual at  each  succeeding  birtli  retaining  the  sex  and 
the  same  peculiar  jjhysical  characteristics.  It  is  re- 
lated that  a  certain  chief  of  the  Wrangel  Indians 
named  Ilarsha,  who  died  about  two  hundred  years 
ajro,  has  since  been  reincarnated  five  times,  and  at 
each  birth  is  known  by  the  scar  of  a  stab  in  the  right 
groin.  Another  chief,  reincarnated  three  times,  is 
always  recognised  by  a  peculiar  lock  of  gray  hair. 
These  Indians  believe  that  heaven— or  the  abode  of 
the  spirits— is  above  ns.  It  is  reached  by  a  ladder 
and  entered  through  a  hole  at  the  point  where  the 
ladder  ends. 

In  almost  all  the   tribes  it  is  believed  that  per- 


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200 


THE   8T0KV   OF  TllH  INDIAX. 


sons  wlio  have  died  muv,  i  oxtniordiiwirv  circiun- 

stances,  become  alive  a"  ii  other  avorIs,  that  tiie 

^Mjosts  may  return  fro!  gliost  country  to  tlie  tribal 

liome,  resuming  their  u.  ml  shapes,  and  to  all  appear- 
ance again  becoming  persons.  There  seems  always  a 
possibility,  however,  that  sueli  returned  ghosts  will 
vanish  on  some  provocation  or  other.  This  idea,  which 
is  found  among  the  tribes  of  the  plains,  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  Pacific  coast,  is  common  to  the  folk 
stories  of  all  races.  It  is  to  be  remembered,  however, 
that  the  story  of  a  ghost  who  liad  returned  to  life 
and  had  afterward,  through  some  fault  of  relations  or 
friends,  been  forced  to  disappear,  would  be  much  more 
likely  to  bo  preserved  in  the  unwritten  literature  of  a 
tribe  than  one  telling  of  a  person  who,  after  having 
died,  has  come  to  life,  and  then  has  remained  with  the 
tribe,  living  out  a  full  term  of  years. 

I  have  met  several  men  who  believe  that  they  them- 
selves have  died,  visited  the  camps  of  the  ghosts,  and 
then  for  some  reason  returned  to  life  and  to  their 
homes,  and  some  of  them  have  related  to  me  what 
they  had  seen  in  the  ghost  country.  Besides  this,  I 
have  been  told  many  other  stories,  which  relate  with 
more  or  less  detail  what  is  done  and  said  there.  A 
study  of  such  stories  will  present  as  clear  an  idea  of 
this  future  life,  and  the  way  it  is  regarded  by  the  In- 
dians, as  can  be  given  in  any  other  way. 

Some  of  these  stories  resemble  in  a  remarkable  de- 
gree tales  of  other  lands,  which  are  familiar  even  to 
our  children.  One  of  these,  told  with  some  detail,  is 
of  singular  interest,  for  it  presents  a  close  parallel  to 
the  classical  myth  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  but  the 
Indian  hero  was  more  fortunate  than  his  Old  World 
prototype,  for  he  was  successful  in  his  quest,  and  re- 


TIIK  WOULD  OP  THE  DEAD. 


201 


covered  the  wife  for  Avhoso  suko  lie  luul  faced  the  lior- 
rors  of  the  gliost  country  and  tlie  peril  of  death. 

Interesting  in  connection  with  sucli  visits  paid  hy 
human  jjcings  to  the  superiuitural  worhl  are  tiie  fre- 
quent aUusions  in  tiiese  accounts  to  the  peculiar  odour 
exhaled  hy  living  persons.  The  gods,  or  the  ghosts, 
when  they  come  near  to  the  place  where  the  individual 
is  concealed,  often  discern  his  presence  hy  this  odour, 
and  call  out,  "  I  smell  a  person,"  or  "  What  is  this  had 
smell?"  The  hurning  of  sweet  grass  or  sweet  pine 
usually  purities  the  air,  so  that  the  smell  is  no  longer 
complained  of. 


If 


;j      1 


CIIAPTKU   XIII. 


PAWXKE    UKMfJIOX. 


Volumes  rni^]flit  l)c  written  on  tlie  Indiiin  ivli,iiion 
without  cxliausting  it.  Tlic  dilTeront  bt'iicf.s  of  tlie 
various  tribes,  tlieir  cercmonijil,  iind  tlic  religious  liis- 
tory,  iis  given  in  their  traditions,  comprise  an  interest- 
ing and  dilVicult  study.  As  a  specific  example  of  the 
religious  beliefs  of  a  ])articular  tribe,  I  quote  an  ac- 
count of  the  Pawnee  religion  taken  from  the  paper* 
already  mentioned.  It  gives  a  somewhat  detailed 
statement  of  the  faith  of  that  ])eople  when  I  first 
knew  them,  anil  before  they  had  been  greatly  changed 
by  contact  with  civilization. 

The  Peity  of  the  Pawnees  is  At  ins  Ti)au'a.\  He 
is  an  intangible  spirit,  omnipotent  and  beneficent. 
He  pervades  the  universe,  and  is  its  supreme  ruler. 
Upon  his  will  depends  everything  that  happens.  lie 
can  bring  good  luck  or  bad ;  can  give  success  or  fail- 
ure. Everything  rests  with  him.  As  a  natural  eon- 
sequence  of  this  conception  of  the  Deity,  the  Pawnees 
are  a  very  religious  people.  Xothing  is  undertaken 
without  a  prayer  to  the  Father  for  assistance.  When 
the  pipe  is  lighted,  the  first  few  whiffs  are  blown  to 
the  Deity.     When  food  is  eaten,  a  small  portion  of  it 

*  .Toiirnal  of  American  Folk-Loro,  vol.  vi,  p.  113,  1893. 
f  At'ius  =  father.     Tirdwa  =  spirit. 

203 


wm 


1 


r.WVNKK   IlKLKilnX. 


L>0;{ 


is  pljiood  oji  the  groimd  as  a  siicrifioo  to  liiiii.  lie  is 
pr()[)iti:itLHl  by  burnt  olTcriii^rs.  Wlicii  tlicy  started 
ofT  on  the  siiniincr  and  winter  liunts,  a  part  of  tiio 
first  animal  wliidi  was  killed,  either  a  deer  or  hnlTalo, 
was  burned  to  him.  The  lirst  bnlTalo  killed  bv  a 
young  boy  was  oiTered  to  liim.  The  common  ])rayer 
among  the  Pawnees  is,  "  Father,  you  are  the  Kuler.'" 
They  always  acknowledge  his  })ower  and  implore  his 
lielp.  lie  is  called  "Father,  who  is  above " ;  "Fa- 
ther, who  is  in  all  places." 

Tirdu'd  lives  up  above  in  the  skv.  Thev  sav, 
"  The  lieavens  are  the  house  of  TirffWd,  awd  we  live 
inside  of  it."  The  overarching  hemisphere  of  the 
sky,  which  on  all  sides  rcacdics  down  to  earth  at  the 
horizon,  in  their  minds  is  likened  to  the  walls  and  roof 
of  the  dome-shaped  dirt  lodges,  which  the  Pawnees  in- 
liabit.  A  similar  conception  prevails  among  the  Jilack- 
feet. 

Next  in  importance  to  ^\/ins  comes  the  Earth, 
which  is  greatly  reverenced.  The  Pawnees  came  out 
of  the  earth  and  return  to  it  again.  The  lirst  whifTs 
of  the  i")ipe  are  olfered  to  A  fins,  but  after  these  smokes 
to  him,  the  next  are  blown  to  the  earth,  and  the 
prayer,  "  Father  of  the  dead,  you  see  us,"  is  expressed. 
Kot  very  much  is  said  by  the  Pawnees  about  the  rev- 
erence which  they  feel  for  the  earth,  but  much  is  told 
about  the  power  of  the  Mother  Corn,  "  through  which 
they  worship,"  which  cares  for  and  protects  them, 
which  taught  them  much  tliat  they  know,  and  which, 
symbolizing  the  earth,  represents  in  material  form 
something  which  they  revere.  A  Kee  priest  said  to 
me :  "  Just  as  the  white  jieople  talk  about  Jesus 
Christ,  so  we  feel  about  the  corn."  Various  explana- 
tions are  given  of  the  term  "  Mother,"  which  is  ap- 


(' 


Tl 


!! 


I  ■ 

I 


I 

II 


/ 


f  !  ' 


f    i  i: 


21)  ^ 


Till-:  SToKV   (IF  TIIH   INDIAN. 


jilicd  to  tho  corn,  but  iioiio  nro  altofjctlicr  siitisfactory. 
'i'lio  n-fcrciico  muy  bo  to  the  fact  that  tlic  coi'ii  hn^ 
ulu'ays  supported  ami  Tioiirislicd  tbciii,  as  tho  chiM  is 
n()iirish('(l  and  supported  by  its  mother's  luiik,  or, 
■\vitli  a  deeper  nu-aiiin;:,  it  may  bo  to  the  jtrodiu'tivo 
power  of  the  eartli,  whicii  each  year  bri^l^^■^  fortii  its 


inereaso 


riie  Sun  and  tho  Moon  and  ti»o  Stars  jiro  ])orsoni- 
ficd.  Tiiey  aro  re<,'arded  as  people,  and  prayers  arc 
made  to  them.  There  is  some  reason  for  believing 
tiuit  tlio  sun  and  tlio  moon  oneo  occupied  a  more  im- 
l>ortant  position  in  the  Pawnee  reii;,nous  system  tluiii 
they  do  to-day.  Tlu'ro  aro  some  songs  wliicli  refer 
to  tiie  Sun  as  tho  I-'ather  uiul  tlio  Moon  as  tlie  Mother, 
as  if  tho  sun  represented  tlio  male  and  the  moon  tho 
female  principle.  O-jti-ri-kiix^  the  Morning  Star,  is 
especially  revered  by  the  Skidi,  and  human  yacrilices 
were  made  to  it. 

It  is  represented  that  each  day  or  night  tlio  Sun, 
^loon,  and  Stars  paint  themselves  up  and  start  out 
on  a  journey,  returning  to  their  respective  lodges  after 
their  course  is  accomplished.  There  aro  two  or  three 
versions  of  a  story  which  tells  of  a  young  woman 
taken  up  from  eurtli  by  a  Star  and  married  to  him. 
This  young  woman  lived  up  in  heaven  for  a  time,  but 
was  killed  while  attempting  to  escape  to  earth  again, 
llor  child — the  son  of  the  Star — reached  the  earth,  and 
lived  long  in  tho  tribe,  lie  had  great  power,  whicli  ho 
derived  from  his  father. 

The  Thunder  is  reverenced  by  tho  Pawnees,  ami  a 
Bpecial  ceremony  of  sacrifice  and  worship  is  performed 
at  the  time  of  the  first  thunder  in  spring,  which  tells 
them  that  the  winter  is  at  an  end,  and  that  the  season 
for  i^lanting  is  at  hand. 


J 


rAWNKK   Ki: I. Id  ION. 


205 


Tlio  various  wild  iuiimals  arc  ri>;;!ir(lt'<l  as  a;;t'iit,s 
or  servants  of  Alius,  and  ari'  iviiowii  as  ti(iliiinn\  \x 
woril  wliicli  jiicaiis  aiiiinal.  It  docs  not  rd'cr  j)ar- 
ticnlarly  to  these  ina;,Mcal  or  mystical  animals  wliicli 
are  tlio  Deity's  servants,  hut  is  a  general  term  ajijilied 
to  any  fish,  reptile,  l)ird,  or  heast.  The  halinnic  jter- 
sonify  the  various  attrihutcs  of  Alius.  Jle  uses  llwiu 
as  l»is  messengers,  and  they  have  great  knowledge  and 
power,  which  they  derive  from  him.  'I'hey  iiold  a  re- 
lation to  tlio  supremo  power  very  similar  to  that  of 
the  angels  in  the  Old  'I'estauu'Ut.  'J'he  aninuds  which 
possess  these  peculiar  })owers  are,  of  (.'ourse,  iu)t  real 
aninuils.  They  are — we  may  ])resume — spirits  nlio 
assume  these  shapes  wlu'ii  they  appear  tonu-n.  Some- 
times, or  in  SOUK!  of  the  stories,  they  arc  :'"prcsented 
as  changing  from  the  animal  shape  to  that  of  men — as 
in  the  account  of  the  oi'igiii  of  the  Young  Dog's 
Dance.* 

lVrhai)s  no  oiu'  at  the  present  day  could  sp(>cify 
the  precise  attributes  of  each  of  the  dilTcrcnt  )i(ihnr(((\ 
hut  there  are  eertajn  characteristics  which  are  well 
known  to  pertain  to  some  of  them. 

Of  all  the  animals,  none  was  so  important  to  the 
Pawnees  as  the  hudalo.  It  fed  and  clothed  them, 
and,  with  their  corn,  was  all  their  support.  This 
alone  was  enough  to  entitle  it  to  a  very  high  place  in 
their  esteem.  It  was  a  sacred  aniuud  of  great  power, 
and  was  a  favourite  secret  helper,  and  although  it  did 
not  receive  a  nu^isure  of  reverence  equal  to  that  felt 
for  the  ]\rother  Corn,  it  was  yet  the  most  sacred  aiul 
highly  respected  of  all  the  animals.  The  eidolon  of 
the  buffalo — its  skull — occupied  a  prominent  position 


i  i 


\\ 


,-% 


*  Journal  of  American  Fulk-Lore,  vol.  iv,  p.  y07. 


P  i 
I 


20G 


THE  STOUY   UF  THE   INDIAN. 


11    ■<* 


in  niyiiy  of  the  Pawnee  sacred  ceremonies,  and  rested 
on  the  top  of  many  a  lodge,  yigi.ifying  ihat  it  was  the 
special  helper  of  the  owner.  Even  to-day,  althongh 
the  buffalo  has  long  been  extinct,  everywhere  in  the 
liee  village  this  same  object  may  Le  seen,  at  once  the 
relic  of  a  noble  animal  which  has  disappeared  from  the 
land,  and  the  symbol  of  a  faith  which  is  i)assing  away 
with  the  ])assing  of  a  people.  The  buffalo  appears  to 
have  typified  fonje  or  power,  as  well  as  the  quality 
of  dashing  blindly  onward.  Besides  this,  there  were 
some  buffaloes  which  were  invulnerable,  which  could 
not  bo  killed  by  ordinary  weapons.  It  was  necessary 
to  rub  on  the  arrow  used  against  them,  or  in  later 
times  on  the  bullet,  a  peculiar  potent  medicine  before 
the  missile  would  penetrate  the  skin.  8uch  buffaloes 
were  usually  described  as  sexless,  of  enormous  size, 
and  without  joints  in  their  legs. 

AVhile  the  bear  was  by  no  means  so  sacred  as  the 
buff'alo,  he  was  regarded  as  singular  for  wisdom  and 
power,  lie  symbolizes  invulnerability,  lie  knows 
how  to  cure  himself.  No  matter  how  badly  he  may 
be  wounded,  if  only  a  little  breath  is  left  in  his  body 
lie  can  heal  himself.  It  is  said  that  sometimes  he 
does  this  by  plugging  up  with  certain  medicine  herbs 
the  wounds  which  have  been  inflicted  on  him.  He 
has  also  the  power  of  breathing  out  from  his  nostrils 
ditfe rent-coloured  dusts — red,  blue,  and  yellow — or  of 
spitting  out  different-coloured  earths.  Certain  medi- 
cine bears  which  belonged  to  two  of  the  bands  could 
not  be  wounded  by  ball  or  arrow.  Of  one  of  these  it 
was  said,  "  The  lead  will  flatten  out,  the  spike  (of  the 
arrow)  will  roll  up  "  when  it  strikes  his  body. 

The  beaver  was  regarded  as  an  animal  of  great 
wisdom  and  power,  and  a  beaver  was  always  one  of  the 


PAWNEE   HELKJION. 


i>(iT 


four  cliiefs  who  ruled  the  councils  of  the  nahnrar. 
Craft  wiis  typified  in  the  wolf ;  counige,  fierceness,  or 
success  in  war  by  the  birds  of  prey,  the  eagle  standing 
at  the  head ;  the  deer  stood  for  flectness,  etc. 

The  black  eagle,  the  white-headed  eagle,  and  the 
buzzard  are  messengers  of  lirdtva  ;  by  them  he  sent 
his  orders  to  the  first  high  priest,  and  instructed  him 
in  the  secrets  of  his  priestship  and  in  the  other  se- 
crets. The  buzzard  and  the  white-headed  eagle  repre- 
sent the  old  men — those  who  have  little  hair  and  those 
whose  hair  is  white;  it  is  from  these  ancient  men  that 
the  secrets  have  been  handed  down  from  generation 
to  generation. 

The  nahnrar  had  an  organization  and  methods  of 
conveying  information  to  favoured  individuals.  They 
had  meeting  i)Iace8  where  they  held  councils  which 
were  presided  over  by  chiefs.  The  meeting  places 
were  in  undergi'ound  lodges  or  caves,  and  there  were 
known  to  the  Pawnees,  when  they  lived  in  their  old 
home  in  Nebraska,  no  less  than  five  such  places. 
These  Avere  at  J*a-Jtnl',  under  the  high  bluff  opposite 
Fremont,  Nebraska;  at  Ah-ka-tvii'akdl^  under  a  high 
white  bluff  at  the  mouth  of  the  Cedar  Kiver ;  at  La- 
la-2va-koh'il-td,  under  an  island  in  the  Platte  River 
opposite  the  Lone  Tree  (now  Central  City,  Nebraska) ; 
under  the  Sacred  Spring  Al fz-a-wltz'nk,  on  the  Solo- 
mon River  in  Kansas;  and  at  PaJtn'r,  or  Guide  Rock, 
in  Kansas. 

Persons  Avho  were  pitied  by  the  iialutrac  were 
sometimes  taken  into  the  lodges,  where  their  cases 
Avere  disjussed  in  council,  and  they  w'ere  helped,  and 
power  and  Avisdom  Avere  given  them  by  the  animals. 
After  it  had  been  determined  that  he  should  thus  be 
helped,  the  A'arious  animals,  one  after  another,  Avould 


W' 


208 


THE  STORY   OF  THE   INDIAN. 


{       ' 


rise  in  tlioir  places  and  speak  to  the  man,  each  one 
giving  liim  the  power  wliicli  was  peculiar  to  itself.  In 
such  a  council  the  buiTalo  would  often  give  the  man 
the  power  of  running  over  those  opposed  to  him  : 
"  Von  shall  run  over  your  enemies,  as  I  do  over  mine." 
The  bear  would  give  him  the  power  to  heal  himself  if 
wounded  and  to  cure  others.  The  eagle  would  give 
him  his  own  courage  and  fierceness:  "You  shall  kill 
your  enemies,  as  I  do  mine."  The  wolf  would  give 
him  the  power  to  creej)  right  into  the  midst  of  the 
enemy's  camp  without  being  seen.  The  owl  would 
say  to  him,  "  You  shall  see  in  the  night  as  I  do  " ;  the 
deer,  "  You  shall  run  jis  fast  as  I  can."  So  it  would 
go  on  around  the  circle,  each  animal  giving  him  that 
power  or  that  knowledge  Avhich  it  typified.  The 
speeches  maoc  in  such  nahiwac  councils  were  similar 
in  character  to  those  which  would  be  made  in  any 
council  of  men. 

Usually  much  of  the  knowledge  taught  a  person, 
who  was  being  helped  by  the  naliurac^  was  that  of  the 
doctors,  and  those  who  had  received  this  help  were 
able  to  perform  all  those  wonderful  feats  in  the  doc- 
tor's dances  for  which  the  Pawnees  were  so  justly  re- 
nowned. Often,  too,  these  persons  were  made  invul- 
nerable, so  that  the  arrows  or  the  bullets  of  the  enemy 
would  not  penetrate  their  flesh. 

The  stay  of  the  individuals  who  might  be  taken 
into  the  nahurac  lodges  did  not,  as  a  rule,  last  longer 
than  four  days,  though  often  a  man  who  had  been 
once  received  there  might  come  again.  If  the  time 
mentioned  was  not  long  enough  to  enable  him  to  ac- 
quire all  the  knowledge  of  the  nahurac^  it  sometimes 
happened  that  after  such  a  visit  the  various  animals 
would  meet  the  person  siugly  out  in  the  hills  or  on 


' 


^mmmmmi 


i*'"i 


PAWNEE  RELIGION. 


209 


the  prairie,  and  would  there  communioate  to  liiin  addi- 
tional knowledge,  especially  that  touching  on  the  eili- 
cacv  of  various  roots  and  herbs  used  in  healing. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  iiahnrdc  die  not  content 
themselves  witii  giving  to  the  i)erson  whoni  they  i)ititd 
help,  and  nothing  more.  They  also  gave  him  good 
advice,  telling  him  to  trust  always  in  the  Kuler,  and 
to  look  to  One  above,  who  is  the  giver  of  all  power. 
Often  they  exphuned  that  all  their  jwwer  came  from 
AiiHS,  whose  servants  they  were ;  that  they  did  not 
make  themselves  great,  that  they  were  mortal,  and 
there  would  be  an  end  to  their  days. 

It  is  not  always  specified  what  shape  was  taken  by 
the  four  chiefs  who  nilal  the  n alt lirae  counviU;  but 
in  at  least  one  story  it  is  stated  that  these  were  a  beaver, 
an  otter,  a  sandiiill  crane,  and  a  garfish.  In  another 
story  a  dog  appears  to  have  been  the  chief.  These 
animal  councils  had  a  servant  who  acted  as  their  mes- 
senger, and  carried  word  from  one  nahurac  lodge  to 
another.  This  bird  is  described  with  some  detail  in 
more  than  one  of  the  Pawnee  stories,  and  was  evi- 
dently a  species  of  tern. 

The  animals  were  the  usual  medium  of  communi- 
cation between  Alius  and  man.  They  most  often 
appeared  to  persons  in  sleep,  telling  them  what  to  do, 
giving  them  good  advice,  and  generally  ordering  their 
lives  for  them.  But  there  is  one  story  in  which  an 
individual  is  said  to  have  s2)oken  face  to  face  with  the 
Father, 

Tlie  four  cardinal  points  were  respected  by  the 
Pawnees,  and  their  place  was  high,  although  they 
were  not  often  spoken  of,  except  in  prayers.  Still,  the 
formula  in  smoking  was  to  blow  first  four  smokes  to 
Atuis,  then  four  to  the  earth,  and  last  of  all  to  each 


I' 


II 


li^ 


l! 


f 


I 


:,f? 


M 


210 


THE  STORY  OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


of  the  card i Mill  points.  Tlio  oust  ropresonted  tlio 
iiiglit,  for  it  is  from  that  direction  tlitit  tl»o  darkness 
comes.  So,  in  one  of  the  stories,  u  speaker,  in  advising 
a  young  man  as  to  how  he  sliould  act,  says  of  smoking  : 
"  Arid  always  blow  four  smokes  to  the  east,  to  the 
night;  for  in  the  night  something  may  come  to  you 
which  will  tell  you  a  thing  which  will  ha])pen,"  that 
is,  come  true.  It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  closer  i)ar- 
allel  to  our  saying,  "1'he  night  brings  counsel."  It 
is  worthy  of  note  that  this  conception  of  the  cast  is 
the  absolute  reversal  of  our  notion  that  the  east  brings 
tlie  light — the  morning;  one  of  the  most  familiar  fig- 
ures in  our  literature. 

Closely  connected  with  their  respect  for  the  night 
is  their  llrni  confidence  in  dreams,  which  to  a  great 
extent  govern  their  lives.  Their  belief  in  a  future  life 
is  in  part  founded  on  dreams  which  they  have  had  of 
being  tiiemselves  dead,  and  finding  themselves  in  vil- 
lages where  they  recognised  among  the  inhabitants 
relations  and  acquaintances  who  had  long  been  dead. 
The  faith  in  another  life  after  this  one  is  ended  is  ex- 
emplified by  stories  already  published,  which  tell  of 
the  coming  to  life  of  persons  who  have  died,  and  is 
fortified  by  the  experiences  of  certain  living  men  who 
believe  themselves  once  to  have  died  and  visited  these 
villages  of  the  dead. 

Prayers  for  direct  hel])  are,  as  a  rule,  made  only  to 
the  Father,  and  not  to  the  animals,  nor  to  th.e  Sun, 
Moon,  and  Stars.  But  the  last  are  constantly  implored 
to  act  as  intercessors  with  A/ Ins  to  help  the  people. 
A  prayer  frequently  made  to  the  animals  by  a  person 
in  distress  was  this  :  "  If  you  have  any  power,  inter- 
cede for  me."  It  is  constantly  stated  in  the  tales  cur- 
rent amoufif  the  Pawnees  that  in  minor  matters  the 


r 


^•mr^m 


SBBSSB 


mummmmmimmmmmmmm 


PAWNKI-:   IlKLKiloN. 


211 


J 

,1  ' 


animals  may  be  dopciuled  on  for  liel]),  but  if  anythini; 
very  difficult  is  souglit,  tlie  petitioner  must  look  only 
to  the  Father.  The  animals  seem  in  many  ways  to 
hold  a  position  in  the  Pawnee  religious  system  anal- 
ogous to  that  of  the  saints  in  the  lioman  Catholio 
faith. 

Something  must  be  said  about  the  sacred  bundles 
which  are  to  the  Pawnees  what  the  Ark  of  the  Cove- 
nant was  to  the  ancient  Israelites.  Concerning  these 
I  may  (juote  what  has  been  written  : 

"  In  the  lodge  or  house  of  every  Pawnee  of  influ- 
ence, hanging  on  the  west  side,  and  so  o])i)osite  the 
door,  is  the  sacred  bnndle,  neatly  wrapped  in  buck- 
skin, and  black  with  smoke  and  age.  What  these 
bundles  contain  we  do  not  know.  Sometimes,  from 
the  ends,  protrude  bits  of  scalps,  and  the  tips  of  pipe- 
stems  and  slender  sticks  ;  but  the  whole  contents  of 
the  bundle  are  known  only  to  the  priests  and  to  its 
owner — perhaps  not  always  even  to  him.  The  sacred 
bundles  are  kept  on  the  west  side  of  the  lodge,  because, 
being  thus  furthest  from  the  door,  fewer  peoj)le  will 
pass  by  them  than  if  they  were  hung  in  any  other  part 
of  the  lodge.  Various  superstitions  attach  to  these 
bundles.  In  the  lodges  where  certjuu  of  them  are 
kept  it  is  forbidden  to  put  a  knife  in  the  lire  ;  in 
others,  a  knife  may  not  be  thrown  ;  in  others,  it  is  not 
permitted  to  enter  the  lodge  with  the  face  painted  ;  or, 
again,  a  man  cannot  go  in  if  he  has  feathers  tied  in  his 
head. 

"  No  one  knows  wlience  the  bundles  came.  ^Many 
of  them  are  very  old  ;  too  old,  even,  to  have  a  history. 
Their  origin  is  lost  in  the  haze  of  the  long  ago.  They 
say  :  '  The  sacred  bundles  were  given  us  long  ago.  Ko 
one  knows  when  they  came  to  us.' " 
15 


'i 


w 


I 


w     li 


212 


THE  STOliV   UF  THE   INDIAN. 


It  is  to  be  observe*]  that  the  miracles  which  so  fre- 
quently occur  in  the  heroic  myths  of  the  Pawnees,  and 
which  generally  result  in  the  bringing  to  life  of  the 
person  who  is  pitied  by  the  nd/inrac,  often  take  ])lace 
during  a  storm  of  rain  accompanied  by  wind  and  thun- 
der. Exam])les  of  this  are  found  in  the  stories  of  the 
Dun  Horse,  Pahukatawa,  Ore  ke  rahr,  and  others. 
The  rain,  the  wind,  and  the  thunder  may  be  regarded 
as  special  numifestations  of  the  jmwer  of  the  J)eity,  or 
these  may  perhaps  be  consideretl  as  veils  which  he  uses 
to  conceal  the  manifestations  of  this  power  from  the 
eyes  of  men. 

Vihiit  has  already  been  said  shows  that  the  mythol- 
ogy of  the  Pawnees  inculcates  strongly  the  religious 
idea,  and  impresses  upon  the  listener  the  importance 
of  trusting  in  the  Kuler  and  asking  his  help. 

Perhaps  the  most  singular  thing  about  this  Paw- 
nee religion,  as  it  has  been  taught  to  me,  is  its  close 
resemblance  in  many  particulars  to  certain  forms  of 
the  religion  of  Christ  as  it  exists  to-day.  While  their 
practices  were  those  of  a  savage  people,  their  theories 
of  duty  and  their  attitude  toward  the  Supreme  Being 
were  on  a  much  more  lofty  j)lane.  The  importance 
of  faith  in  the  Deity  is  most  strongly  insisted  on  ;  sac- 
rifices must  be  made  to  him — oiferings  of  the  good 
things  of  this  earth,  often  of  parts  of  their  own  bodies  ; 
penance  must  be  done.  ]5ut,  above  all  things  else, 
those  who  desire  success  in  life  must  humble  them- 
selves before  the  Deity  and  must  implore  his  help. 
The  lessons  taught  by  many  of  the  myths  are  precisely 
those  which  would  be  taught  by  the  Christian  priest 
to-day,  while  the  burnt-offerings  to  Alius  may  be 
compared  w^ith  like  sacrifices  spoken  of  in  the  Old 
Testament,  and  the  personal  tortures  undergone  dur- 


^•ywmm 


I'AWXEK   KKLRilON. 


2ia 


ing  certain  of  tlioir  ceremonies  arc  almost  tiic  exact 
equivalents  of  tiie  sulTerings  iiillicted  on  themselves  by 
certain  religionists  of  the  middle  ages. 

On  the  whole,  the  Pawnee  religion,  so  far  as  I  un- 
derstand it,  is  a  singularly  i)ure  faitii,  and  in  its  essen- 
tial features  will  compare  favourably  with  any  savage 
system.  If  written  in  our  own  saered  books,  the  trust 
and  submission  to  the  will  of  the  Kuler  shown  in  some 
of  the  myths,  which  I  have  elsewhere  recorded,  would 
be  called  sublime.  What,  for  example,  could  be  finer 
than  the  prayer  oil'ered  by  a  nuin  who,  through  the 
hostility  of  a  rival,  is  in  the  deepest  distress  and  ut- 
terly hopeless  of  liunum  aid,  and  who  throws  himself 
on  the  mercy  of  the  Creator,  and  at  the  same  time  im- 
plores the  intercession  of  the  nahumc  ?  This  man  pre- 
pares to  ofTer  his  horse  as  a  sacrifice  to  tlie  animals,  but 
before  killing  it  he  says  :  "  My  Father  [who  dwells]  in 
all  i)laces,  it  is  through  you  that  I  am  living.  Perhaps 
it  was  through  you  that  this  man  put  me  in  this  con- 
dition. You  are  the  Kuler.  Nothing  is  impossible  to 
you.  If  you  see  fit,  take  this  [trouble]  away  from  me. 
Now  you,  all  fish  of  the  rivers,  and  you,  all  birds  of 
the  air,  and  all  animals  that  move  upon  the  earth,  and 
you,  0  Sun  !  I  present  to  you  this  animal.  You  birds 
in  the  air,  and  you  aninuds  upon  the  earth,  we  are  re- 
lated ;  we  are  alike  in  this  respect,  that  one  Kuler 
made  us  all.  You  see  me,  how  unhappy  I  am.  If 
you  have  any  power,  intercede  for  me." 


ji- 


HI 


; 


\    i 


CIIAPTKU  XIV. 


U     it 


\l 


i'  ! 


'1  t] 


THE    OLD    FAITH    AM)   THK    NKW. 

Xo  subject  is  more  difficult  tlum  the  religion  of 
a  stivage  people.  It  is  not  always  easy  to  determine 
just  what  are  the  beliefs  of  a  civilized  race.  Certain 
marked  dilTerences  between  various  sects,  and  the  form 
and  ritual  of  each,  may  be  described  with  more  or  less 
accuracy,  but  the  actual  beliefs  jire  hardly  to  be  arrived 
at.  This  is  partly  because  most  people  do  not  them- 
selves know  what  they  believe — or  at  least  have  never 
put  in  words  all  the  points  of  their  faith — and  also 
because  no  two  imlividuals  have  precisely  the  same 
belief. 

"We  have  been  told  of  late  years  that  there  is  no 
evidence  that  any  tribe  of  Indians  ever  believed  in  one 
overruling  power,  yet  in  the  early  part  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  Jesuits  and  Purita  ;dike  testified  that 
tribes  which  they  met  believed  in  .i  .  1.  and  it  is  cer- 
tain that  at  the  present  time  many  tnbes  worship  a 
Supreme  Being  who  is  the  lluler  of  the  universe. 

In  the  case  of  many  of  these  tribes  this  god  lives 
up  above  in  the  sky  in  what  we  would  call  heaven,  but 
sometimes  his  abiding  place  is  under  the  ground  or 
again  at  the  different  cardinal  points.  The  Pawnees, 
as  already  stated,  now  locate  him  above,  yet  one  story 
which  they  tell  places  him  in  the  west  beyond  the 
big  water.     In  the  same  region  is  the  dwelling-place 

214 


3E 


u 

> 

3 
O 
o 


O 


71 

'a 


a. 

3 

o 

u 

C 


iF 


» 


TIIK  ol.l)   I'WITII   AND  TIIK   NKW. 


til  5 


of  tlie  Sim,  the  t'liief  Blackfoot  gin\.  Other  tribi'S 
pliU'u  tlu'ir  iiriiicipal  ^'otl  in  the  oast,  aiul  often  liis 
liotiio  is  bevoncl  tlio  bi;;  water  wiiieli  siirroiiiuU  tlio 
continent.  Some  tribes  west  of  the  Kockies  worship 
tho  Wolf  as  eiiief  god  and  creator. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  tiiat  many  of  the  tribes  of 
this  continent  once  worshi})j)ed  the  Sun — as  some  still 
do — or  i)erha))S  originally  the  light  or  the  dawn  was 
tlie  god.  'J'he  prayer  of  the  IJlackfoot  invariably  be- 
gins, "  Hear  Sun,  hear  Old  Man,  Above  IVoi)le  listen, 
Under-water  People  listen."  This  might  fairly  bo 
called  a  prayer  to  the  Sun  as  the  supremo  ruler,  but 
also  an  a])peal  to  all  the  powers  of  Nature  as  well.  A 
Pawnee  ])rayer  already  quoted  reverses  this  order,  and 
is  addressed  more  specillcally  to  "  Vou  all  llsh  of  tho 
rivers,  you  all  birds  of  the  air,  and  all  animals  that 
move  ui)on  the  earth,  and  you,  O  Sun  !  " 

In  cases  where  the  Sun  is  the  Supreme  Father,  or 
old  man,  tho  Moon  is  often  tho  sun's  wife,  the  mother, 
the  old  wonum ;  or,  on  tho  other  hand,  the  Earth  may 
be  the  mother.  In  any  case  it  is  true  that  all  tribes 
have  a  great  reverence  for  tho  earth,  which  they  regard 
as  the  producer  not  only  of  themselves  but  of  all  food, 
the  fruitful  one,  from  whom  comes  all  their  support. 
But  this  is  an  idea  which  is  as  broad  as  humanity ; 
witness  our  own  figure  of  Mother  Earth.  In  fact,  with 
many  tribes  tho  earth  seems  to  rank  as  the  second  of 
tho  powers  or  iniluences  that  are  prayed  to,  and  in 
smoking,  though  the  first  smoke  and  prayer  is  offered 
to  the  power  above,  the  second  is  almost  invariably 
blown  downward  to  the  earth.  In  like  manner,  while 
some  tribes  in  blessing  or  in  healing  hold  up  tho  palms 
of  tho  hands  to  tho  suidight  before  passing  them  over 
the  person  to  be   blessed   or  tho  part  to  be  cured, 


(' 


! 

i    i 


I    ' 


;l 


2i(; 


TIIK   STOUV   OF   'I'lIK    INDIAN. 


*n     I 


i 
I 

i 


♦ 


fi 
i 


I?!  'I 


. 


'I 


others,  lis  tlio  ('licvciuics,  place  the  paliiis  upon  tlio 
;,'roiin(l,  as  if  the  j^'ood  iiilhieiiee  was  to  l»e  derived 
from  the  earth. 

Besides  the  siiii,  niooii,  and  earth,  certain  of  tlie 
stars  are  held  in  esju'ciul  reverence,  and  this  is  trnc 
particnhirly  of  tlie  nioriu!i<,'  star,  wiiiclj  by  tlie  lilack- 
feet  is  eaUed  Karly  K'isi'r,  and  is  believed  to  be  the  .son 
of  the  Sun  and  Mooji.  The  Skidi,  as  has  elsewhere 
been  stated,  made  special  saci'ilices  to  this  planet, 
which  they  believed  to  have  great  iidhienee  over  their 
crops.  Many  of  the  tribes  have  names  for  the  })lanets, 
the  brighter  stars,  and  the  more  important  constella- 
tions, and  relate  stories  to  account  for  their  existence 
or  for  the  grouping  of  the  stars,  'i'hus  the  (Jreat 
]iear  is  called  the  Seven  Persons  by  the  niackl'eet, 
aiul  liroken  Rack  by  the  Arapahoes ;  the  IMeiades, 
the  Seven  Stars  l)y  Pawnees  and  JJIackl'eet,  (irou|)ed 
Together  Stars  by  the  ("heyennes.  \'enus  is  known 
by  the  C'heyennes  us  "  lielonging  to  the  Moon."  The 
Milky  Way  is  called  Spirit  K'oad  by  the  Cheyennes, 
and  is  the  road  travelled  by  the  spirits  of  the  departed 
on  their  way  to  the  future  world.  The  IMackfeet  call 
it  the  Wolf  Jioad,  and  believe  it  the  short  trail  from 
the  Sun's  lodge  to  this  world.  Most  tribes  call  it  the 
((host's  Road. 

liesides  such  intangible  and  all-])ervading  s})irits 
as  the  Sj)irit  Father  of  the  Pawnees,  already  nu'u- 
tioned,  and  the  heaveidv  bodies,  there  arc  iiumv  su- 
permitural  agencies  of  another  and  secondary  class, 
which  are  often  spoken  of  las  minor  gods,  but  which 
seem  rather  to  occupy  a  position  corresponding  very 
elo;3ely  to  the  saints  and  angels  of  our  religious  sys- 
tem. To  such  agencies — all  of  them  subordinate  to 
the  supreme  power — prayers  are  offered  in  much  the 


TIIK  of. I)  FAITH    AND  TIIM   NKNV. 


t>l7 


IK'S, 

•ted 


lich 

very 

svs- 

e  to 

the 


siinic  way  tliat  for  iiwmy  criittirirs  petitions  liavc  Im-cu 
iiiaik'  by  certain  sects  ol'  the  Ciiristiaii  rciiiricMi  to  saints 
ami  lioly  iiersoiiap'S.  These  a;;encies,  whicli  (d'tun  as- 
sume a  material  shape,  ami  which  appear  to  men  in 
the  form  of  beasts,  hinls,  rocks,  i>nttes,  or  mouiitains, 
sometimes  r'.'prosi'nt  certain  foiccs  of  Nature,  or  a;,Min 
only  qualities  or  jxtwers,  mental  «»r  physical.  These 
forces  or  ((ualitii'S  do  not,  however,  invariably  tak*'  a 
visibU^  shape;  and  althou;,di  the  thunder  is  believed 
l>v  manv  tribes  to  iuive  the  form  of  a  bird,  there  are 
Others  by  which  it  has  never  been  seen. 

In  all  the  important  allairs  (d'  life  help  is  askecl  (»f 
these  supernatural  a<;encies  ;  jirayers  are  made  to  them 
and  saerillces  olfered  — a  pulT  of  smoke,  a  little  food,  or 
a  bit  of  tobacco  or  red  cloth.  They  occupy  the  j)osi- 
tion  of  intercessors,  mediators  between  man  and  the 
snprenu'  power.  The  dilTerent  classes  of  these  suj)er- 
natural  afreiicies  which  appear  to  inhabit  the  air  and 
skv  above,  the  world  about  us  and  the  world  beneath 
us,  have  already  been  referred  to.  They  have  the 
power  to  <,nve  to  favoured  ones  the  special  qiudities 
Avhich  eaidi  represents,  jind,  besides,  to  implore  for 
liim  the  hel])  of  the  Deity.  To  the  nuiii  who  fasted 
and  dreamed  for  power,  and  who — steadfastly  endurini^ 
the  hunger  and  thirst  and  the  frightful  visions  whi(di 
so  often  caused  him  to  give  up  the  attempt — bore  all 
tliis  suffering  to  the  end,  one  of  these  suj)ernatural 
agencies  wouM  often  appear  as  liis  struggle  drew  to  a 
close,  and  thougli  at  first  pcrliaps  seeming  severe  and 
stern,  would  at  length  soften  and  become  more  kindly, 
and  would  then  offer  wise  counsel  and  friendly  ad- 
vice, promising  to  give  him  its  })ower  and  to  help  him 
through  life.  This  was  the  man's  secret  heli)er,  his 
"medicine,"  the  special   being  to  whom   his  prayers 


J 

! 


H 


21S 


Till':  STOKV  OF  TIN-:   INDIAN. 


! 


f     > 

. 

; 

f 

IHII 

1 
1 

.1: 

were  hereafter  offered.  This  is  wliat  is  meant  wlien  an 
Imlian  is  spoken  of  as  l»avin<3^  ijeen  ''helped  by  a  woUV 
a  bear,  or  an  eagle. 

Tiie  Indian,  liowever,  does  not  call  this  assisting 
power  by  any  of  these  names.  He  usually  speaks  of  it 
as  his  dream  or  sleep,  and  says,  "  It  came  to  me  in 
my  sleep,"  or  "  A  s})irit  told  me  in  my  sleep,"  and  the 
Hlackfoot  when  he  prays  says,  "  I^isten,  my  dream." 
The  so-called  "medicine"  or  bundle  of  sacred  things, 
which  numy  Indians  always  carry  with  them  is  called 
by  the  same  name.  The  owner  believes  these  things 
to  have  been  given  him,  or  that  he  has  been  directed 
to  make  them  by  his  dream,  and  such  articles,  while 
lie  has  them  about  his  person,  protect  him  from  harm. 
A  friend  to  whom  I  was  once  of  service  afterward  gave 
me  his  dream.  He  told  me  that  he  had  carried  it  in 
battle  for  many  years,  aiul  that  it  had  always  kept  him 
safe.  It  was  a  necklace  of  bear  claws  and  spherical 
leaden  bullets,  and  was  perhaps  the  most  highly  valued 
of  all  his  possessions.  AVhirlwind,  the  chief  of  the 
Cheyenncs,  used  to  tell  of  the  power  of  his  dream — a 
little  hawk  which  he  wore  on  his  war  bonnet — which 
had  always  protected  him  in  battle,  and  especially  in 
one  fight,  when,  during  a  charge  on  his  enemies,  who 
were  fighting  behind  cover,  the  bullets  fiew  so  thick 
about  him  that  every  feather  on  his  bonnet  was  cut 
away,  yet  no  ball  touched  him,  nor  was  the  hawk  hit. 

Instances  where  men  have  been  struck  and  knocked 
down  by  balls,  which  yet,  on  account  of  the  power  of 
this  protection,  did  not  enter  the  flesh  or  inflict  a 
wound,  are  commonly  spoken  of. 

It  is  impossible  to  state  definitely  just  how  these 
dilTerent  powers  are  regarded — whether  it  is  an  actual 
worship  that  is  offered  to  them  ;  whether,  as  has  been 


111: 


TIIK  OLD  FAITH   AND  THE  NEW. 


211) 


'» 


-a 


I 


Rail],  "AH  nature  is  alive  witli  gods;  every  mountain, 
every  tree  is  worshipped,  and  tlie  commonest  aninuds 
are  objects  of  adoration  "  ;  or  whetlier  one  supreme  god 
is  adored  tlirougli  tliese  various  objects  and  creatui'cs 
wliich  typify  tliat  god's  various  attributes.  Even  the 
Indian  liimself  does  not  know  just  wliich  of  these  is 
true.  Probably  the  average  red  man  suitually  worships 
each  such  object.  At  least  it  is  certain  that  every  ob- 
ject in  Nature  may  have  its  special  property  or  power 
which  is  to  be. reverenced,  and  perhaps  propitiated. 
»Such  objects  arc  probably  types,  an  animal,  or  plant, 
or  butte,  staiiding  for  a  quality,  and  being  reverenced 
as  the  material  embodiment  of  that  quality.  If,  for 
example,  the  eagle  tyjjilies  courage  and  dash  in  war, 
young  men  about  to  go  on  the  warpath  olfer  prayiMs 
and  sacrifices  to  the  eagle,  asking  him  to  give  them 
some  of  his  bravery.  Yet  such  prayer  is  not  ofTered  to 
any  actual  bird  but  to  some  representative  eagle— per- 
haps a  si)iritual  one— which  stands  for  bravery ;  for 
while  many  animals  stand  for  qualities  or  special  pow- 
ers, the  actual  animals  are  in  no  sense  sacred.  Some 
tribes  teach  kindness  and  consideration  to  all  living 
things,  and  forbid  their  unnecessary  destruction  ;  but 
even  these  tribes  do  not  regard  any  animals  as  sacred 
in  the  sense  that  they  are  not  to  be  killed  when  it 
is  necessary.  The  animjds  representing  these  quali- 
ties have  special  powers,  they  arc  supernatural,  they 
are  nearer  the^Deity  than  men,  yet  they  are  his  serv- 
ants. Whatever  powers  they  may  possess  are  not  cre- 
ated by  themselves  nor  in  any  sense  inherent  in  them, 
but  liavc  been  given  to  them  by  the  Kulcr,  and  are  ex- 
ercised only  by  his  permission. 

The  coming  of  the  white  man  has  brought  to  the 
Indian— even  to  him  who  lias  not  been  exposed  to  the 


n 


'%'.. 


220 


THE  STOKV  OF  THE  INDIAN. 


f.  ■■ 


i  f 


tcacliiiig  of  tlie  missionarios — more  or  less  of  skc})ti- 
ci.sin  5is  to  his  own  religion.  He  believes  that  all  good 
gifts,  whether  mental  or  material,  come  from  the  su- 
preme power,  and  lie  sees  that  the  white  man  has  a 
monopoly  of  such  gifts.  Hence,  in  many  cases,  he  has 
come  to  think  that  the  white  man's  god  is  rich  and 
wise,  while  the  Indian's  is  j)oor  and  foolish.  IMie  one 
taught  his  children  well,  and  gave  them  guns,  machin- 
ery, and  money,  the  power  to  talk  to  each  other  at  a 
distance,  the  wisdom  to  know  beforehand  what  to  do 
in  certain  circumstances,  and  great  shrewdness  in  all 
the  alTairs  of  life.  The  other  furnished  to  his  children 
oidy  their  simple  arms  and  utensils  and  the  builalofor 
their  food.  These  things  satisfied  the  Indian  so  long 
as  he  knew  of  nothing  better,  but  now  that  he  is  wiser, 
he  cannot  but  feel  more  or  less  contempt  for  a  god 
who  could  do  no  niore  for  his  children  than  this,  and 
he  does  not  hesitate  to  express  the  contempt  which  he 
feels. 

On  the  other  hand,  this  does  not  make  him  more 
ready  for  conversion  to  a  belief  in  the  white  man's  re- 
ligion. This  religion  offers  to  him  a  set  of  ideas  entirely 
new  and  entirely  different  in  character  from  any  that 
he  has  ever  had  before,  and  he  cannot  at  first  com- 
prehend them  at  all.  An  Indian  friend,  who  had 
listened  long  to  the  arguments  of  a  Christian  mission- 
ary, spoke  to  me  with  severe  scorn  of  the  foolishness 
of  the  hitter's  promises  of  heaven  and  threats  of  hell. 
"How  is  it  possible  for  me  to  go  up  into  the  sky?" 
he  said.  "Have  I  wings  like  an  eagle  to  flv  awav? 
Or  how  can  I  get  to  that  place  down  below  ?  I  have 
no  claws  like  a  badger  to  dig  down  through  the 
ground." 

The  Indians,  as  has  often  been  pointed  out,  are  es- 


I 


TIIK  OLD   FAITH   AND  TIIH   NKW. 


^  *«  L 


scntiiilly  a  religious  pco})lo.  Tlicy  realize  man's  feeble- 
ness, his  inability  to  successfully  contend  with  the 
powers  of  Xature,  and  so  they  ask  for  the  assi.^tance  of 
all  those  beings  whom  they  believe  to  have  powers 
greater  than  themselves.  The  saerillces  with  which 
they  accompany  their  prayers  may  vary  from  a  spoon- 
ful of  food  or  a  bit  of  calico  to  a  scalp  taken  in  war, 
a  horse,  or  a  piece  of  flesh  cut  from  the  body.  An  ac- 
quaintance of  mine,  who  had  lost  three  lingers  from 
liis  left  hand  and  two  from  his  right,  told  me  that  at 
diiTerent  times  in  the  course  of  seven  years  he  had 
sacrificed  these  missing  members  in  the  furtherance  of 
a  special  object,  which  he  at  last  attained.  In  one  of 
the  Pawnee  stories  which  I  have  recorded  *  a  father  is 
related  to  have  sacrificed  his  only  son,  whom  he  dearly 
loved,  in  the  belief  that  this  act  would  secure  divine 
favour. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  in  many  cases  the  In- 
dian religion  of  to-day  has  been  greatly  infiuenced  by 
the  teachings  of  Christian  missionaries,  and  this  seems 
to  be  true  of  Pacific  coast  triijes  to  a  much  greater 
degree  than  of  those  dwelling  on  the  plains.  More 
than  once,  when  camping  with  Indians  whose  home  lay 
on  the  west  side  of  the  Kocky  Mountains,  I  have  been 
impressed  by  the  survival  of  evidences  of  Christian 
teachings  among  people  who  have  apparently  forgot- 
ten those  teachings,  even  though  some  of  their  forms 
still  persist.  And  when  one  sees  a  wild  Indian- -one 
wdiom  he  knows  to  be  a  thorough  pagan — make  the 
sign  of  the  cross  before  he  prays,  one  cannot  but 
wonder  whence  came  this  man's  knowledge  of  (jiod, 
who  told  him  the  story  of  the  cross. 


.  '  i 


W 


Pawnee  IIiTo  Stories  and  Folk-Tiiles,  p.  1(»1. 


m  •■ 


i)')') 


TIIK  STUUV   OK  Till-:  INDIAN. 


;i    !. 


i  lip 


iH 


Such  a  sight  curries  tlic  mind  l)a('k  over  the  cen- 
turies, and  makes  real  to  tlic  observer  tlie  extent  and 
the  permanence  of  tlic  devoted  work  done  here  in 
America  by  the  black-robed  jM'iests  who  marched  with 
tlie  little  steel-clad  army  of  the  C'onquistadores  when, 
with  all  the  ])onip  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war, 
they  entered  ^Mexico.  At  first  these  fathers  made 
tlu'ir  converts  by  tlie  sword.  Later  their  unflagging 
zeal  and  i)atient  faith  subdued  tribe  after  tribe,  until 
at  lengtii  tbey  reached  the  western  ocean.  Slowly 
they  spread  along  the  coast,  nortii  and  south,  and  to 
the  outlying  islands  of  the  sea,  and  planted  tlie  cross 
deeper  and  dee})er  in  the  wilderness.  In  trackless 
deserts,  in  tangled  forests  tiiey  preached  Christ  and 
his  kingdom.  The  wild  tribes  of  the  parched  cactus 
plains,  the  gentle  races  of  the  Pueblo  villages,  the 
hardy  fishermen  of  the  seashore  alike  yielded  to  the 
faith  and  energy  which  inspired  these  ministers  of 
God,  Little  by  little  they  made  their  way  up  the 
coast — you  can  trace  their  progress  on  the  map  to- 
day— San  Diego,  San  Pedro,  San  Luis,  San  Jose,  San 
Francisco,  San  Juan — ever  fighting  the  battle  of  the 
cross,  upheld  by  their  faith.  The  blazing  sun  of  sum- 
mer poured  down  upon  them  his  withering  heat;  they 
did  not  blench.  The  frosts  and  snows  of  winter 
chilled  them  ;  they  pushed  on.  Sky-reaching  moun- 
tains barred  their  progress;  they  surmounted  them. 
Floods  stood  in  their  way  ;  they  crossed  them.  Pain- 
fully, slowly,  on  foot  through  an  unknown  country, 
in  perils  of  waters,  in  perils  by  the  heathen,  in  perils 
in  the  wilderness,  "  in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in 
watchings  often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings 
often,  in  cold  and  nakedness,"  they  held  their  stead- 
fast way.      Xo  danger  daunted   them,   no  difficulty 


Tin-:  OM)  FAITH  and  tiik  xi:\v. 


2-2.^> 


turnetl  them  back.  Dcjitli  did  not  stop  their  inureli. 
If  one  faltered  and  stumbled  and  fell,  another  stepjjed 
calmly  forward  and  took  his  place.  Is'o  need  now  to 
look  at  the  means  tl'cy  sometimes  employed,  nor  to 
remember  that  among  these  servants  of  (lod  all  were 
not  alike  worthv.  Look  onlv  at  what  they  accom- 
plished,  and  remember  at  what  Ji  cost.  And  though 
their  earnest  labours  failed  to  establish  liere  in  the  new 
■world  the  religious  empire  of  which  they  dreamed, yet 
no  doubt  each  faithful  soul  had,  in  the  consciousness 
of  duty  well  performed,  his  own  abundant  reward. 
And  although  of  their  teachings  in  numy  tribes  much 
or  all  has  been  forgotten,  still,  even  now  in  wild  eami)s 
in  the  distant  mountains,  the  sign  of  the  cross  and 
the  vesper  bell  may  remind  the  wanderer  of  a  time, 
now  long  past,  when  faith  was  strong  aiul  men  were 
willing  to  die  for  God's  glory.  There,  in  such  lonely 
camps  among  rugged  peaks  and  far  from  the  haunts 
of  men,  is  still  practiced  a  rite  of  the  Church.  There 
still  grows,  though  stunted,  deformed,  and  changed, 
the  plant  whose  seed  was  first  sown  centuries  ago  by 
that  devoted  band. 


I  i 


li 


I 


in  :; 


CHAPTER    XV. 
THE  coMixu  or  Tin:  wiiitk  man. 

KxoWLKDOK  of  tlie  white  man  came  to  the  differ- 
ent tribes  of  tlie  west  at  dill'erent  times,  but  a  cen- 
tury ago  most  of  tliem  knew  little  of  him,  and  there 
are  many  tribes  which  have  had  a  real  intercourse 
with  the  whites  for  a  still  shorter  time.  Long  before 
this  the  Spaniards  iu  the  southwest  and  on  the  Pacific 
coast  had  made  their  presence  felt,  but  the  Indians 
usually  do  not  consider  that  Spaniards  are  of  the  same 
race  with  tlie  people  of  European  origin  who  came  to 
them  from  the  east,  and  often  they  have  a  special 
name  for  them. 

Even  after  the  Indians  had  learned  of  the  existence 
of  white  people,  they  did  not  at  once  come  into  con- 
tact witli  them.  It  was  often  (piite  a  long  time  before 
they  even  began  to  trade  with  them,  and  when  they 
did  so,  it  was  in  a  very  small  way.  The  first  articles 
traded  for  were  arms,  beads,  blankets,  and  the  gaudy 
finery  that  the  savage  loves.  Horses — which  trans- 
formed the  Indian,  which  changed  him  from  a  mild 
and  peaceful  seeker  after  food  to  a  warrior  and  a 
raider — were  by  many  tribes  first  obtained  not  directly 
from  the  whites,  but  by  barter  from  those  of  their 
own  race. 

Most  tribes  still  preserve  traditions  of  the  time 
when  they  met  the  first  white  men,  as  well  as  of  the 

224 


w 


TUK  CUMING   UF  THE  WHITE  MAN. 


2l>5 


time  when  thoy  first  saw  horsos;  but  in  many  ciiscs 
tliis  was  80  long  ago  tliat  all  details  of  the  oecurrenco 
have  been  lost.  Jt  is  certain  that  the  Spaniards  and 
their  horses  had  worked  their  way  up  the  Paeilic 
slope  into  Oregon  and  Washington  long  before  there 
was  any  considerable  inllux  of  white  tra})pers  into  the 
plains  country  and  the  Kocky  Mountains;  and  that  of 
the  western  tribes,  those  which  in  miles  were  furthest 
from  Mexico  were  the  last  to  learn  of  the  whites  and 
their  wonderful  powers.  One  of  these  peoples  was 
the  Blackfeet,  of  whom  I  have  been  told  by  men  still 
living  in  the  tribe  that  fifty  years  ago  no  IJlackfoot 
could  count  w])  to  ten,  and  that  a  little  earlier  the 
number  of  horses  in  all  three  tribes  of  that  confedera- 
tion was  very  small.  Then  they  had  but  few  guns, 
and  many  of  them  even  used  still  the  stone  arrowheads 
and  hatchets  and  the  bone  knives  of  their  primitive 
ancestors. 

A  people  whose  intercourse  with  the  whites  has 
been  so  short  aiul,  until  recent  times,  so  limited,  ought 
to  retain  some  detailed  account  of  their  earliest  meet- 
ing with  civilized  men,  and  such  a  tradition  has  come 
to  me  from  John  Monroe,  a  htdf-ljrced  I'iegan,  now 
nearly  seventy  years  old.  It  tells  of  the  first  time  the 
Blackfeet  saw  white  peo])le — a  party  of  traders  from 
the  east,  either  Frenchmen  from  ^[ontreal,  or  one  of 
the  very  earliest  parties  of  Hudson  Bay  men  which 
ascended  the  Saskatchewan  lliver.  John  Monroe  first 
heard  the  narrative  when  a  boy  from  a  lilood  Indian 
named  Sutane,  who  was  then  an  old  man,  and  Su- 
tane's  grandfather  was  one  of  the  party  who  met  the 
white  people.  The  occurrence  probably  took  place 
during  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

When  this  people  lived  in  the  north,  a  party  of  the 


i  1 

it   H 


r   ' 


220 


TIIK  STORY  OF  TllH  INDIAN. 


1   Jr 


M 


k  ^ 


BluL'kfeet  started  out  to  war.  Tht'v  truvolk'd  on,  iil- 
wjiys  going  soutlnvjinl,  until  they  ciinie  to  u  big  water. 
AViiiie  passing  through  ti  belt  of  timber  on  tlie  north 
baniv  of  this  river,  tiiey  came  upon  what  tliey  took  for 
strange  beaver  work,  wiiere  these  animals  luul  been 
cutting  down  the  trees.  lUit  on  looking  elosely  at 
the  cuttings,  they  saw  that  the  chips  were  so  large 
that  it  must  have  been  an  animal  much  bigger  than  a 
beaver  that  could  open  its  mouth  wide  enough  to  cut 
such  chi[)S.  They  did  not  nnderstand  what  this  could 
be,  for  none  of  thein  liad  ever  seen  anything  like  it 
before.  Each  man  e.\[»ressed  his  mind  about  this, 
and  at  last  they  concluded  that  some  great  under-water 
animal  must  have  done  it.  At  one  i)lace  they  saw 
that  the  trunk  of  a  tree  was  nussing,  and  found  the 
trail  over  the  ground  whore  it  had  been  dragged  away 
from  the  stump.  They  followed  this  trail,  so  as  to 
see  where  the  animals  had  taken  the  log,  and  what 
they  had  done  with  it,  and  as  they  went  on,  they 
found  many  other  small  trails  like  this  one,  all  leading 
into  one  larger  main  trail.  They  then  saw  the  foot- 
prints of  persons,  but  they  were  prints  of  a  foot 
shaped  dilTerently  from  theirs.  There  was  a  deep 
mark  at  the  heel ;  the  tracks  were  not  flat  like  those 
made  by  people.* 

They  followed  the  trail,  which  kept  getting  larger 
and  wider  as  it  went.  Every  little  while,  another  trail 
joined  it.  AVheu  they  came  to  Avhere  they  could  look 
through  the  timber,  they  saw  before  them  a  little  open 
spot  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  They  looked  through 
the  underbrush,  and  saw  what  they  at  first  thought 

*  This  deep  murk  was  no  doubt  the  imprint  of  the  heel  of  a 
shoe. 


THE  COMING   OF  TIIK  WIIITK   MAX. 


2-21 


were  boars,  and  afterward  took  to  be  })er!<oiifs,  lit'tiii<]f 
lo,i;.s  and  j)iitting  tlieiii  up  in  a  lar<;e  pile.  'J'iiey  crei>t 
eloser,  to  where  they  eoiUd  sec  better,  and  tiien  con- 
eluded  that  these  were  not  people.  They  were  very 
woolly  on  the  face,  liong  masses  of  hair  hung  down 
from  their  eh  ins.  They  were  not  elothed — wore  no 
robes.  'I'he  IMaekfeet  .said  :  ''  Why,  they  have  nothing 
on!  Thev  are  naked  I  "  Some  of  them  said,  "  Those 
are  Si'ii/c  //77U' "  (water  jteople).  They  stole  around 
to  anotiier  point  of  the  timber,  still  nearer,  where  they 
could  sec  better.  There  tiiey  came  close  to  one  of 
these  people  alone,  lie  was  gathering  sticks  and  p\it- 
ting  them  in  a  })ile.  They  saw  that  the  skin  of  ids 
liands  and  face  was  white.  This  one  had  no  hair  on 
his  face.*  So  thev  said  :  "  Well,  this  must  be  a  she 
water  animal.  The  he  ones  have  hair  on  the  face, 
and  the  she  ones  do  not." 

The  oldest  num  of  the  party  then  said :  "  We  bad 
better  go  awav.  Mavbe  thev  will  smell  us  or  feel  us 
here,  and  perhaps  they  will  kill  us,  or  do  something 
fearful.     Let  us  go."     So  they  went  away. 

When  they  got  back  to  their  camp,  they  told  what 
they  liad  seen ;  that  to  the  south  they  had  found  aiu- 
mals  that  were  very  miu'h  like  people — water  ainmals. 
Thev  said  that  these  animals  were  naked.  That  some 
of  them  had  red  bodies,f  and  some  were  black  all  over, 
except  a  red  nuirk  around  the  bodies  and  a  fine  red 
tail.;);  .Moreover,  these  people  wore  no  robes  or  leg- 
gings and  no  breech-elouts. 

*  Tliis  was  probiibly  11  boy  {,'jillioring  poles  for  roofing. 

•}■  Wore  red  shirts. 

X  The  old  Hudson  Bay  men  used  to  wear  about  the  waist  a 
red  sash  the  ends  of  which  hung  down  in  front.  Wiien  they 
were  working,  to  get  these  ends  out  of  the  way,  they  would  pass 
16 


11 


22« 


Till-:  5;t()|{v  ov  tiik  Indian. 


'/ 


Tliis  description  ciiiiscd  a  <^rvut  excitciiicnt  in  the 
canii).  Some  tiiou;,'iit  lliiit  tlio  straii^'i!  lH'iM;^'s  wt-ro 
wiitiT  aiiiinals,  and  otliiTs  tiiat  they  were  u  lU'W  jk'O- 
])!('.  All  tiiu  nicji  of  the  camp  started  south  to  sco 
wiiat  tiiis  could  be.  IW-t'ore  tlicy  left  the  camp,  the 
hea«l  man  told  them  to  be  verv  careful  iit  dealiiii''  with 
the  animals,  not  to  interfere  with  them  nor  t(»  ;^('t  in 
their  way,  and  not  to  try  to  hurt  them  nor  to  an<;er 
them. 

The  i>arty  started,  and  when  they  reached  tho 
openinij;,  the  ajiiuuils  were  still  there  at  work.  After 
they  had  watched  them  for  some  time  the  lu-ad  man 
of  the  l)arty  said  to  the  others:  "All  you  stay  here, 
and  1  will  <'o  down  to  them  alone.  If  tlii'V  do  nothini' 
to  me  you  wait  here,  but  if  they  attack  or  hurt  me, 
you  rush  on  theui,  and  we  will  light  hard,  and  try  not 
to  let  them  capture  any  of  us."  The  man  started,  and 
when  he  came  close  to  the  corner  of  the  houses  ho 
stood  still.  One  of  tlie  men,  who  was  workinj:;  near 
by,  walked  up  to  him,  looked  him  straight  in  the  face, 
and  stretched  out  his  arm.  The  Indian  looked  at  him, 
and  did  not  know  what  lie  wanted.  Some  more  of 
the  men  came  up  to  him,  and  the  Indian  saw  that  all 
of  them  were  jjcrsons  like  himself,  except  that  they 
were  of  a  dilTerent  colour  and  had  a  dill'erent  voice. 
The  hair  on  their  faces  was  fair. 

When  the  other  Indians  saw  that  no  harm  had 
been  done  to  their  leader,  some  of  them  went  down  to 
him,  one  by  one,  and  by  twos  and  threes,  but  most  of 
the  party  remained  hidden  in  the  timber.  They  were 
still  afraid  of  these  stranjre  new  beinsfs. 


i 


tliein  around  the  body  and  under  the  susli,  so  that  they  hung 
down  behind. 


t  I 


TIIK  (OMINCJ   OV  TIIK   WIIITK  MAN. 


-lO 


'I'lic  wliitcs  sj)(»k('  to  tlioni,  ami  asked  tluni  to 
roiiu'  into  tlic  house,  niakiii".,'  motions  to  them,  hut  tlio 
Imiiaiis  (lid  not  understand  wiiat  was  meant  by  these 
isi;j:ns.  '{'he  wliites  would  walk  away,  and  then  come 
hack  and  take  hold  of  the  Indians'  rohes  and  pidl 
them.  At  last  some  of  tiie  Hlaekfeet  followed  tlic! 
while  men  into  the  house.  'I'hose  who  had  ;,^)ne  in 
came  hack  and  told  the  others  stran<;o  storii-s  of  th(^ 
woiulerful  thiiiirs  they  had  seen  in  this  house.  As 
they  ;j:ained  eonlidenee,  many  others  went  in,  while 
still  otheis  would  not  go  in,  nor  would  they  go  elosc 
to  the  new  j)eo]»le. 

The  whites  showed  them  a  long  and  rurious-look- 
ing  i)iece  of  wood.  They  did  not  know  of  what  kind 
of  stone  one  part  of  it  was  nuide.  It  was  hard  and 
black.  The  white  nam  took  down  from  the  wall  a 
white  cow's  horn  and  jjoured  out  some  black  sand  into 
his  hand,  and  ])oured  it  down  into  a  hole  in  this  long 
stick.  Then  he  took  a  little  bunch  of  grass  and  pushed 
this  into  the  hole  with  another  stick,  then  measured 
with  his  fingers  the  length  of  the  stick  left  out  of  the 
liole.  Then  he  took  a  roniul  thing  out  of  a  bag,  and 
put  it  into  the  hole,  and  ])ut  down  some  more  fine 
grass.  Then  he  poured  out  some  more  of  the  black  sand 
into  the  side  of  the  stick.  The  Indians  stood  around, 
taking  great  interest  in  the  way  the  man  was  hand- 
ling this  stick.  The  white  man  now  began  to  make 
uU  kiiuls  of  signs  to  the  Indians,  which  they  did  not 
understand.  Sometimes  he  would  make  a  big  sound 
with  his  mouth,  and  then  point  to  the  stick.  He 
would  put  the  stick  to  his  shoulder,  holding  it  out  in 
front  of  him,  and  make  a  great  many  motions.  Then 
he  gave  it  to  one  of  the  Indians.  He  showed  him  the 
uuder  parts,  and  put  his  finger  there.     The  Indian 


r 


2']() 


TIIK  SToliV   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


Ii  ; 


.  ' 


i 


"I 


f  i 


tniiclu'tl  tlio  under  part  ninl  tlic  stick  went  olT  in  tliu 
air  aiul  iiiado  a  tliiiiulcriti;;  sound,  a  tcrriWlc  crash. 
'I'hu  Indian  sta^ri^crcd  hack,  and  tlic  otlicrs  wcro  very 
niiu'li  Ht'ari'(l,  Some  dropix-d  to  the  j,M'ound,  while  all 
tlu!  whites  laii;;he(|  and  shook  their  iieads  at  them. 
All  laii,i,Hu'd,  and  niatlo  many  siu'iis  to  the  lilaekl'eet, 
iiono  of  which  they  understood.  The  white  man  took 
down  the  horn  of  hiack  sand,  and  ai^ain  did  these 
thin;;s  to  the  stick,  but  this  time  tlie  Indians  all  sto(»d 
hack.  They  were  afraiil.  When  he  had  llnishe<l  the 
motions,  the  white  man  invited  them  out  of  (h)ors. 
'i'hen  lie  sat  d(nvn,  and  took  aim  at  a  lo«'  Ivinj,^  on  tlio 


g 


round. 


The    same    "Treat    thunder    sounde(l. 


1I< 


walked  up  to  the  1(%  showed  the  bullet  iiole,  and 
])uslied  u  little  stick  into  it;  then  lie  loaded  the  gun 
again. 

By  this  time  the  Indians  were  beginning  to  under- 
stand the  j)ower  of  the  stick.  After  the  white  man 
had  loaded  it,  lie  handed  the  gun  to  the  Indian,  took 
liim  cdoso  to  the  log,  showed  him  how  to  aim  the  <^\\n 
id  how  to  pull  the  trigger.    The  Indian  llred  and  hit 


ai 


the  log. 

The  white  men  showed  these  lilackfcet  their  knives, 
whittling  sticks  with  them,  and  showing  them  how 
■well  thev  could  cut.  1'he  Indians  were  vcrv  much  do- 
lighted  with  the  ])ower  of  those  knives.  Then  they 
saw  a  big,  wooUv  white  man  standing  out  in  front  of 
the  house,  and  ho  with  his  axe  would  cut  a  big  log  in 


two  in  onlv  a  short  ti 


me 


All  these  thinjrs  were  ver 


strange  to  thorn.  The  white  men  looked  rloselv  at  the 
lilackfoot  war  dresses  and  arms  and  wanted  them, 
and  gave  their  visitors  some  knives  and  copper  cups 
for  their  dresses  and  the  skins  that  they  wore.  The 
visitors  stayed  with  the  white  men  some  days,  camping 


Till-:   (O.MIXd   <M'   TlIK  WIIITK    MAN. 


L>;Ji 


iioar  l>y.  'I'lioy  kept  wojidcriii;,'  at  tlicso  pcoplo,  at  liow 
tlu'V  l<)(»k('(l,  till'  tiling's  wliit'li  tlu'V  lia<i,aiul  wliat  tlirv 
liid.  'I'lii'  wliitc  mt'ii  kt'pt  tiiakiii;;  >i^'ii.s  tu  tlii'iii,  but 
tlu'V  understood  iKttliiii;^'  ol'  it  all. 

After  a  titiie  the  Blackfeet  ri'tiirne<l  to  their  camp. 
Afterward,  niaiiy  others  vi>ited  the  whites,  and  tlii.s 
was  the  Ite-Miuiin''  of  a  fiieiidlv  intercourse  between 
the  two  pt'oples.  After  a  time  they  came  to  under- 
stand eacdi  other  a  little,  and  trade  relations  were 
opejied.  The  Indians  learned  that  they  could  <:et  tho 
white  man's  thing's  in  ex(;han;;e  for  the  skins  of  small 
nniriuds,  and  they  be;;an  to  trade  and  to  <,^'t  ;^Mins.  Jt 
was  when  they  ^ot  these  artns  that  they  lirst  bi'^'an  to 
take  couraire,  and  to  go  out  of  the  tind)er  on  to  tho 
jtrairie  toward  tho  mountains.  In  those  old  (hiys  tho 
Hudson  Hay  traders  used  to  tell  tiie  Indians  to  bring 
in  tho  liair  from  the  skins  of  l)ufTalo,  to  put  it  in 
sacks  a?ul  brin,<;  it  in  to  trade.  They  did  so,  l)ut  all 
of  a  sudden  the  traders  would  take  no  more  bulTalo 
luiir. 

This  probably  refers  to  tho  attomjit  made  during 
tlio  last  century  in  tho  Selkirk  settlement  to  establish 
u  corporation  for  tnakiug  cloth  from  bulTalo  hair. 

Of  tho  special  articles  brought  by  the  white  men, 
the  first  to  exercise  an  important  intlueiu'o  on  tho 
people  were  horses.  Tho  possession  of  those  animals 
greatly  increased  their  liberty,  stimulated  them  to 
wars  with  their  neighbours,  and  in  fact  wrought  a 
most  important  change  in  the  character  of  tho  peo- 
ple.* Tho  knowledge  of  tho  horse  advanced  from  tho 
south  northward,  and  those  animals  spread  northward 


I' 


*  Blac'kfoot  Lodge  Tulcs.  p.  243. 


TIIH   STOItV   OK   TIIH   INDIAN. 


!H     ' 


i     It 


!i».  : 


!i 


jf     r 


uj)  tl»c  PaciHc  coast  more  rapidly  than  on  the  east  side 
of  the  mountains.  Tlie  tril)es  of  the  southern  plains — 
Coinanches,  Kiowas,  Wicliitas,  An'i)ahoes,  Xavajoes, 
and  otliers — olttained  liorses  very  early.  'J'he  Pawnees 
and  various  tril)es  of  the  Dakotas  later.  The  I'tes, 
Snakes,  and  Kutenais  had  horses  early;  and  the  last 
of  the  i)lains  trihe  to  obtain  them  were  the  lilackfeet, 
Assiniboines,  and  Plains  Crees.  In  the  ease  of  trii)es 
that  have  \ong  had  horses,  it  is  inii)ossible  to  even  aj)- 
proximate  the  date  at  which  they  were  obtained — it 
lia])pened  too  long  ap) — but  with  the  more  northern 
tribes,  which  have  had  horses  for  a  short  time  only,  I 
have  been  more  successful  in  my  incpiiries,  aiul  from 
several  old  men  among  the  Picgans  1  have  accounts 
of  the  first  coming  of  horses. 

As  I  have  said,  manv  mvths  exist  to  account  for 
the  coming  of  the  horse,  but  this  Piegan  testimony  is 
that  of  an  eve-witness.  Wolf  Calf  is  probabiv  over 
one  hundred  years  old.  lie  well  remembers  when  the 
first  white  men  i)assed  through  the  country,  and  old 
men  of  seventy  years  or  thereabouts  tell  me  that  lie 
was  a  proved  warrior  when  they  were  little  Ijoys.  lie 
believes  that  he  was  born  in  111)3.  From  him  1  have 
definite  and  detailed  accounts  of  the  ways  of  the  Pie- 
irans  in  davs  before  thev  had  been  at  all  inlluenced 
by  civilized  man.  I  believe  liis  statements  to  be  as 
worthy  of  crech'nce  as  any  can  be  which  depend  solely 
on  memory.  The  account  which  follows  is  a  transla- 
tion of  his  narrative,  taken  down  from  his  own  lips 
some  years  ago.     He  said  : 

"  Long  ago,  when  I  was  young,  just  gettitig  big 
enough  to  use  a  bow,  we  used  arrowpoints  of  stone. 
Then  the  knives  were  made  of  flint.  Not  long  after 
this,  arrowpoints  of  sheet  iron  bega7i  to  corr.e  into  use. 


■WWB 


ZLMXSSSiSSBSSISSBae^' 


big 


TIIK   (C)MLVG   OF  TIIK  WIIITK   MAX. 


After  wo  iisod  tlie  stono  knives  wo  boijiin  to  irct  wiilto 
mcu's  knives.  Tlie  first  of  these  that  we  liad  were 
mude  of  a  strip  of  tin.  This  Wiis  svt  into  a  bone,  so 
tliat  only  a  narrow  cdgo  of  the  tin  i)rotrM(le(l,  and  liiis 
was  sharpened  and  nsed  for  si<inning. 

"  liefore  that  time  the  IMegaiis  liad  no  liorses. 
When  they  moved  their  camp  they  paela'd  their  hxlL^es 
on  doijs. 

"  Tlic  first  liorses  wo  over  saw  eame  from  west  of 
the  mountains.  A  band  of  the  riei^ans  were  eamix'd 
on  ]?elly  liiver,  ut  a  place  tiiat  we  call  'Smash  the 
Heads,'  where  wo  jumped  buffalo,  'i'iiey  had  been 
driving  buffalo  over  the  cliff  here,  so  that  thev  had 
plenty  of  meat. 

"  There  had  come  over  the  mountains  to  hunt  buf- 
falo a  K  fonai  who  had  some  horses,  and  he  was  run- 
ning buffalo;  but  for  some  reason  he  had  no  luck. 
lie  could  kill  nothing.  He  had  seen  froju  far  off  the 
riegan  camp,  but  he  did  not  go  near  it,  for  the  Piegans 
and  the  Kutenais  were  enemies. 


U  M^ 


This  Kutenai  could   not  kill  anvtli 


lllL' 


and  1 


10 


aiul  his  family  had  nothing  to  eat  ivnd  were  starving. 
At  last  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  go  into 
the  camp  of  his  OKomies  and  give  liimself  uj),  for  ho 
said,  '  I  might  as  well  b--  killed  at  once  as  die  of  hun- 
ger.' So  with  his  Avife  and  children  he  rode  away 
from  his  camp  up  in  the  mountains,  leaving  his  lodge 
s  .mding  and  his  horses  feeding  about  it,  all  except 
tlioso  which  his  woman  and  his  three  chihlren  were 
riding,  and  started  for  the  camp  of  the  Piegans. 

"They  had  just  made  a  big  drive,  and  had  run  a 
great  lot  of  buffalo  over  the  clifT.  There  were  many 
dead  in  the  piskun,  and  the  men  were  killing  those 
that  were  left  alive,  when  suddenly  the  Kutenai,  on 


I 


i 


.1 

r 


23-t 


TIIK  STOUY   OF  TIM';   INDIAN'. 


:'*■'       <- 


i  [li 


^  li 


It 


'■-U-i; 


liis  liorsc,  followed  by  liis  wife  iiiul  children  on  theirs, 
rode  over  a  hill  near  by.  When  they  saw  hini,  all  the 
I*ie<i;uis  were  astonished  and  wondered  what  this  could 
be.  >sone  of  tbeni  had  ever  seen  anything  like  it,  and 
they  were  afraid.  They  thought  it  was  sonietliing 
nivsterious.  The  chief  of  the  I'iegans  called  out  to 
his  people  :  'This  is  something  very  strange.  I  have 
heard  of  wonderful  things  that  have  happened  from 
the  earliest  times  until  now,  but  I  never  heard  of  anv- 
thing  like  this.  This  thing  must  have  come  from 
above  (i.  e.,  from  the  sun),  or  else  it  must  have  come 
out  of  the  hill  (i.  c.,  from  the  earth).  Do  not  do  any- 
thing to  it;  be  still  and  wait.  If  we  try  to  hurt  it, 
may  be  it  will  ride  into  that  hill  again,  or  may  be  some- 
thing bad  will  happen.     Let  us  wait.' 

"As  it  drew  nearer,  they  could  sec  that  it  was  a  man 
coming,  and  that  he  was  on  some  strange  animal.  Tiic 
Piegans  wanted  their  chief  to  go  toward  him  and  speak 
to  him.  The  chief  did  not  wish  to  do  this;  he  was 
afraid  ;  but  at  last  he  started  to  go  to  meet  the  Kutc- 
njii,  who  was  coming.  When  he  got  near  to  him,  the 
Kutenai  made  signs  that  he  was  friendly,  and  patted 
his  horse  on  his  neck  and  made  signs  to  the  chief.  '  I 
give  you  this  animal.'  The  chief  made  signs  that  he 
was  friendly,  and  the  Kutenais  rode  into  the  camp 
and  were  received  as  friends,  and  food  was  given 
them  and  they  ate,  and  their  hunger  was  satisfied. 

"  The  Kutenai  staved  with  these  Piegans  for  some 
time,  and  the  Kutenai  man  told  the  chief  that  ho  had 
more  horses  at  his  camp  up  in  the  mountains,  and  that 
beyond  the  mountains  there  were  plenty  of  horses. 
The  Piegan  said, '  I  have  never  lieaj'd  of  a  man  riding 
an  animal  like  this.'  lie  asked  the  Kutenai  to  bring 
in  the  rest  of  his  horses ;  and  one  night  he  started  out. 


'wmamK 


mm 


BWB! 


TIIR  COMING   OF  THE  WHITE  MAN. 


and  tlic  next  duy  came  hack  driving  all  his  liorscs  be- 
fore him,  and  tiiey  came  to  the  camp,  and  all  the  peo- 
ple saw  them  and  looked  at  them  ami  wondered. 

"  Some  time  after  this  the  Kntenjii  said  to  the  Pie- 
gan  chief  :  '  My  friend,  why  not  come  across  the  moun- 
tains to  my  country  and  visit  me?  I  should  like  to 
have  von  see  mv  countrv.  Hring  with  vou  those  of 
your  i)eoplo  who  wish  to  come.  My  peo})le  will  give 
you  many  horses.' 

"  Then  the  Piegan  chief  said  :  '  It  is  good.  I  will 
go  with  you  and  visit  you.'  He  told  his  people  that 
he  was  going  with  this  Kntenai,  and  that  any  of  them 
who  wished  to  do  so  might  ijo  with  him.  Manv  of  the 
Piegans  packed  their  dogs  with  their  lodges  and  with 
dried  meat  and  started  with  the  Kntenai,  and  those 
who  had  no  dogs  packed  dried  meat  in  their  parlleches 
and  carried  it  on  their  backs. 

"  In  those  days  the  Piegans  did  not  take  women  to 
sit  beside  them  until  they  were  near  middle  life — about 
thirtv-five  or  fortv  vears  old  :  but  among  those  who 
uent  across  the  mountains  was  a  voung  man  less  than 
thirty  years  old,  who  had  taken  a  wife.  Many  of  the 
people  did  not  like  this,  and  some  made  fun  of  him 
because  he  had  taken  a  wife  so  voung. 

"  The  party  had  not  travelled  many  days  when  they 
got  across  the  mountains,  and  near  to  where  the  Kn- 
tenai camp  was.  When  they  had  come  near  it,  the 
Kntenai  man  went  on  ahead,  and  when  he  had  reached 
his  village,  he  told  the  chief  that  he  had  with  him  vis- 
itors, Piegans  who  lived  on  the  prairie,  and  that  they 
had  no  horses,  but  had  plenty  of  bulTalo  meat.  The 
Kntenai  chief  told  the  man  to  bring  these  Piegans 
into  the  camp,  lie  did  so,  and  they  were  well  re- 
ceived  and  were  given  presents  of  horses,  and  they 


fl 


ii 


ni!i"f  r 


Mi.rM'llli 

i'^.  ■  i  ill 


t . . 


Ill 


;:  .^• 


236 


Till']  STORY  OF  Till-:   INDIAN. 


tnidc'd  tlit'ir  bufTiilo  nicjit  for  more  linrsos.  Tlio  vouiiff 
niiin  witli  the  wifo  luid  four  parllochos  of  dried  inoat, 
and  for  each  onu  of  tlicsjo  he  received  a  horse,  and  all 
four  were  mares. 

"  The  Piegans  stayed  with  the  Kuteuais  a  loni^ 
time,  but  at  length  they  returned  over  the  mountain?} 
to  their  own  country,  taking  tlieir  horses  witli  them. 
AVlien  the  other  bands  of  tlie  Piegans  saw  these  horses 
and  heard  wliat  luid  liap[)ened,  tliey  began  to  nuike 
peace  with  the  Kutenais,  and  to  trade  witli  them  for 
nu)re  liorses.  The  voung  man  who  liad  a  wife  kept 
the  four  mares,  and  took  them  about  with  him  wher- 
ever he  went.  He  said  to  his  wife:  "  We  will  not  give 
away  any  of  these  horses.  Thev  are  all  mares  and  all 
voung.  Thev  will  breed  and  soon  we  will  have  more.' 
The  mares  bred,  and  the  young  man,  as  he  grew  older, 
proved  to  be  a  good  wtirrior.  He  began  to  go  to  war 
against  the  Snakes,  aiul  to  take  horses  from  them,  and 
after  a  time  he  had  a  great  herd  of  horses. 

"  This  voung  man,  though  once  evervbodv  liad 
laughed  at  him,  fiiudly  became  head  chief  of  the  Pie- 
gans. His  name  at  first  was  Dog,  and  afterward  Sits 
in  the  ^Aliddle,  and  at  last  Many  Horses,  lie  had  so 
maTiy  horses  he  could  not  keep  track  of  them  all. 
After  he  had  so  many  horses,  he  would  select  ten  boys 
out  of  each  band  of  the  Piegaiis  to  care  for  his  horses. 
Many  Horses  had  more  horses  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
tribe,  ^[any  Horses  died  a  good  many  years  ago. 
The>o  were  the  first  horses  the  Piegans  saw. 

"  When  they  first  got  horses  the  people  did  not 
know  what  they  fed  on.  They  would  offer  the  ani- 
mals pieces  of  dried  meat,  or  would  take  a  piece  of 
backfat  and  rub  their  no.ses  with  it,  to  try  to  get  them 
to  cat  it.     Then  the  liorses  would  turn  away  and  put 


.-J..«.yLJJ!!IH 


TIIK   COMINC.   OF   THE   WIIITH   MAX. 


no*" 


ago. 


down  tlieir  ]u'iul?i,  luul  begin  to  cut  the  grass  of  tho 
prairie." 

Tlie  (late  first  mentioned  by  Wolf  Calf  would  be 
— if  we  assume  his  age  to  be  given  correctly — about 
lSO-i-l!S()G,  or  when  he  w;is  from  ten  to  twelve  vears 
of  age,  and  I  presume  that  their  lirst  horses  may  have 
coino  into  the  hands  of  the  lilackfeet  al)out  that  time, 
or  in  tho  very  earliest  years  of  the  present  century. 
This  would  agree  fairlv  well  with  the  statement  of 
Mr.  Hugh  Monroe,  who  says  that  in  1813,  when  lie  first 
came  among  this  people,  they  had  possessed  horses  for 
a  short  time  onlv,  and  had  recentlv  begun  to  make  war 
excursions  to  the  south  on  a  large  scale  for  the  })urposG 
of  securiug  more  horses  from  their  enemies.  Hugh 
^[onroe's  wife,  wdio  "was  born  about  1I0(!-1T98,  used 
to  say  that  Avhen  she  Avas  a  little  girl  the  Piegans  had 
no  horses,  dogs  being  their  only  beasts  of  burden,  and 
all  the  evidence  that  I  can  gather  in  this  tribe  seems 
to  point  to  the  date  given  jis  that  at  which  they  ob- 
tained their  first  liorsos.  AVe  know  that  the  chief 
Many  Horses  was  killed  in  the  great  battle  of  the  Cy- 
press Hills  in  the  autumn  of  18GT,  and  lie  is  always 
spoken  of  as  a  very  old  man  at  that  time. 

Wolf  Calf  also  gave  the  following  account  of  the 
first  visit  of  white  traders  to  a  Piegan  camp.  He  said  : 
"  White  people  had  begun  to  come  into  this  country, 
and  Many  Horses'  young  men  wanted  ropes  and  iron 
arrow^points  and  saddle  blankets,  and  the  people  were 
beginning  to  kill  furs  and  skins  to  trade.  ^lany 
Horses  began  to  trade  with  his  own  people  for  these 
thinofs.  He  would  ask  the  voung  men  of  the  tribe  to 
kill  skins  for  him,  and  they  would  bring  them  to  him 
and  he  would  give  them  a  horse  or  two  in  exchange. 
Then  he  would  send  his  relations  in  to  the  Hudson 


ill 

i'   1 

): 


(;   ■ 


H 


li 


'"■'■  '. 


iii 


!:  ill 


li 


It 


208 


THE  STDIIY   OF   TIIK   INDIAN. 


l^ny  post  to  tr.idc,  but  lie  would  iiovor  j;o  himself.  TJie 
wliito  men  wanted  to  see  liim,  juid  sent  word  to  him 
to  come  in,  but  he  would  never  do  so. 

"At  leny^th,  one  winter,  these  white  men  parked 
their  do<;  sledges  with  goods  and  started  to  see  Majiy 
Horses.  'J'liey  took  with  them  guns.  The  I'iegans 
heard  that  the  whites  were  coming,  and  Many  Horses 
sent  word  to  all  the  })eople  to  eoine  together  and  meet 
liim  at  a  certain  place,  where  the  whites  were  coming. 
AVhen  these  came  to  the  camp,  they  asked  where  Many 
Horses'  lodg(!  was,  and  the  peoi)Ie  jiointed  out  to  them 
the  Crow  painted  lodge.  'I'he  whites  went  to  this 
lodge  and  began  to  unjjack  their  things — guns,  cloth- 
ing, knives,  aiul  goods  of  all  kinds. 

"  ^Fany  Horses  sent  t\\;o  men  to  go  in  diiTerent  di- 
rections through  the  camp  and  ask  all  the  principal 
men,  young  and  old,  to  come  together  to  his  lodge. 
They  all  came.  Some  went  in  and  some  sat  outside. 
Then  these  white  men  began  to  distribute  the  guns, 
and  with  each  gun  they  gave  a  bundle  of  powder  and 
ball.  At  this  same  time,  the  young  men  received  white 
blankets  and  the  old  men  black  coats.  Then  we  lirst 
got  knives,  and  the  white  men  showed  us  how  to  use 
knives  ;  to  split  down  the  legs  and  rip  up  the  belly — 
to  skin  for  trade.  There  were  not  knives  enough  for 
each  to  have  one,  and  it  was  then  that  knives  with  tin 
edges  were  made. 

"  The  whites  showed  us  many  things.  They  had 
flint,  steel,  and  punk,  and  showed  the  Indians  how  to 
use  them.  A  white  man  held  the  flint  and  struck  it 
with  the  steel  and  lighted  the  punk.  Then  he  gave 
them  to  an  Indian  and  told  him  to  do  the  same.  He 
did  so,  but  when  he  saw  the  spark  burning  the  tinder, 
he  was  frightened  and  dropped  it. 


'•Ammgm 


TIIK   (OMIXCi    OF  TIIH  WIIITH   MAX. 


"  lU'forc  that,  firo  was  niado  witli  llivsticks,  tlio 
twirling  stick,  being  made  of  greascwood,  was  lianl, 
and  in  the  lioUow  whicli  ivcoived  tlic  ])(»int,  finely 
jiowdered  dry  grass  was  pnt,  winch  cangiit  tiie  iire. 
Tiiis  was  transferred  to  linder  and  bluwn  into  a 
name." 

As  I  iiave  said  elsewliere,  tlio  possession  of  guns 
and  liorses  transformed  tiie  Hlackfeet  from  a  more  or 
less  stationary  })eople  dwelling  in  the  timber,  and  de- 
voting all  their  energies  to  hnnting  and  the  food  sup- 
ply, to  a  tribe  whoso  chief  ambition  was  the  iicqniring 
of  glory  and  riches  by  warlike  i)ursuits.  Now  they 
began  to  go  to  war,  and  in  a  few  years  they  had  con- 
quered from  their  enemies  on  the  south  a  great  terri- 
tory, and  had  begun  to  make  themselves  rich  in  horses. 
Inhabiting  a  country  abounding  in  bulTalo,  it  was  easy 
for  them  to  procure  robes  to  supply  to  the  traders  who 
at  length  penetrated  their  country,  and  so  to  provide 
themselves  with  all  the  goods  that  the  white  men  of- 
fered. But  fast  in  the  wake  of  the  white  men  followed 
disease,  and  smallpox  and  measles  and  scarlet  fever 
breaking  out  in  their  camps,  swept  oiT  thousands  upon 
thousands  of  the  race.  The  white  men  learned  that 
Indians  liked  liquor  and  began  to  use  this  in  trade, 
and  liquor  killed  more  than  disease. 

Any  tribe  of  Indians  who  had  obtained  possessions 
of  any  sort  from  the  white  men  had  manifestly  ".  oie- 
mendous  advantage  over  any  other  tribe  who  still  had 
only  their  primitive  equipment,  and  we  are  told  by 
Cheyenne  tradition  that  that  brave  and  warlike  people 
during  their  migration  toward  the  southwest  were  ut- 
terly routed  and  put  to  flight  by  the  Assiniboines,  who 
had  recently  obtained  guns  from  the  white  traders. 

As  a  rule,  the  early  intercourse  between  Indians 


II 


l'« 


240 


TIIK   STOItY   OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


and  wliites  in  tho  west  was  friendly,  and  tlicir  rela- 
tions pleasant.  Vet  among  tiio  more  warlike  tribes, 
stranger  and  enemy  were  synonymous  terms,  so  that 
the  horses  of  white  men  were  often  stolen.  Of  course, 
when  this  occurred,  elTorts  were  made  to  kill  the  thieves, 
and  thus  active  war  was  very  often  brougiit  about.  A 
nuin  or  two  killed  on  either  side  woidd  for  some  time 
to  come  insure  reprisals  and  lighting  at  all  subse(|uent 
meetings  of  parties  of  whites  and  Indians  belonging 
to  the  tribe  engaged,  and  each  battle  would  niake 
others  more  probable.  Sometimes  a  i»eace  woukl  be 
made  which  was  lasting,  and  there  are  some  tribes 
which  have  never  engaged  in  any  wars  with  the 
whites,  while  others,  in  the  face  of  shameful  injury 
and  ill  treatment,  have  always  been  their  faithful  allies 
in  their  wars  with  other  tribes. 


mmmmmr^ 


IWJAl,, 


APPENDLX:. 

THE  NOKTII  AMi:i:KANS-VI..STKIiI)AV  AND  TO-DAV. 

The  Indians  of  tliis  continent  constitute  a  sinulo 
race,  wliose  i)liysical  cliaracteristics  aro  reniarkablv 
alike  tliroun^liout  all  tribes.  Though  the  diverse  condi- 
tions  of  life  in  various  parts  of  a  wide  continent  have 
caused  difTeronces  of  stature,  colour,  and  development 
in  certain  directions,  these  differences  are  of  minor 
importance,  and  it  is  probable  that  there  is  no  such 
wide  variation  as  is  found  among  different  groups  of 
the  white,  black,  and  yellow  races. 

An  Indiiin  is  always  an  Indian,  yet  each  tribe  has 
its  own  characteristics.     The  i)opular  notion  that  all 
Indians  liave  the  same  speech  and  the  same  modes  of 
life  is  wholly  erroneous.     In  North  America,  north 
of  ^lexico,  there  were  nearly  sixty  distinct  linguistic 
stocks  or  groups  of  languages,  which,  so  far  as  kiiown, 
had  no  relation  to  each  other,  and  represent  groui)s  of 
Indians  apparently  unconnected  by  ties  of  blood  with 
any  other  family.     In  other  words,  these  tribes  differ 
from  each  other  in  speech  more  widely  than  do  the 
diiferent  European  nations ;  for  all  the  European  na- 
tions, such  as  Kussian,  German,  Italian— excei)t  the 
intrusive  Turks,  Iluns,  etc.— constitute  parts  of  a  sin- 
gle linguistic   stock,  the  Indo-European   or  Aryan. 
The  difference  between  two  Indian  linguistic  stocks, 

241 


\\h 


r 


i?  If 


i;Jj 


2\'2 


TIIK  SKMIV   OK  TIIK   INDIAN. 


giirli  iis  AI,ir<>iif|iiiii  and  Dakota,  is,  tlu-rcforo,  not  tliat 
lu'twccn  (Jrirks  and  (itTrnaiis,  hut  bi-twccii  tlic  ^'rcatcr 
groups  Arvan  and  'i'liraiiian,  or  Arvaii  and  Scnictic, 
and  such  stocks  as  Ali;oiif|iiin,  Dakota,  Paunc*',  Atha- 
]»ascan,  and  Ir(M|n(>is  constitute  families  of  c(|ual  rela- 
tive rank  with  the  Old  World  families  just  men- 
tioneil. 

While  some  of  the  Indian  families  were  ma<le  up 
of  many  trihes  speakini^  dilTereiit  dialects,  or  even 
iisini?  lani|:ua<;es  nnintelli^di)le  to  eaeii  other,  and  c(»n- 
trollin^  a  vast  extent  of  territory,  others  consisted  (►f 
a  sinii'Ie  small  trihe  without  apparent  allinities  with 
any  of  its  neiijhhours.  S(>,  on  the  I'acilic  coast,  where 
uhout  two  thirds  of  the  ditrerent  lini^uistic  stocks  ex- 
ist, one  nuiv  lliul  a  little  villaufe  of  lishiui'  Iiulians  wiio 
— they  say — have  from  time  immemorial  inhahited  this 
same  re;j:ion,  and  who  yet  have  nothing  in  common 
with  their  nearest  nei^jjlihours  a  few  miles  away,  and  are 
unable  to  communicate  with  them  excei)t  by  signs,  or 
— to-day — by  the  so-called  Chinook  jargon,  the  com- 
mon trade  language  of  the  northwest  coast. 

lint  while  a  vast  territory  nught  be  inhabited  and 
controlled  bv  one  familv,  as  much  of  the  eastern  United 
States  and  Canada  nearly  as  far  as  the  Kocky  Moun- 
tains was  controlled  by  the  Algonquin  family,  this 
occupancy  did  not  necessarily  mean  that  all  otlier 
families  were  excluded  from  such  territory.  At  va- 
rious points  all  over  such  a  region,  there  might  be 
areas,  large  or  small,  which  were  held  by  tribes  genet- 
ically distinct  from  the  prevailing  family  and  holding 
their  own  against  their  neighbours. 

As  the  families  differed  from  each  other  in  lan- 
guage, so  the  tribes  differed  in  culture.  North  of  the 
Mexican  boundary,  all  tribes  were  practically  in  the 


, 


TIIK    NoKTII    AMKItlCANS. 


lM;; 


t  be 

onct- 

)lding 

liin- 


stonp  iv^o  of  (U'vcloprncnt.  Tlic  use  (»f  metals  was  im- 
kiiown.  In  a  frw  cases,  native  cdjiper  was  emplnvctl 
for  ornament  or  nlensil,  but  it  was  treated  as  ii  stone — 
hammered  into  sliape.  It  was  not  known  as  u  metal. 
Tlio  Indian's  arms  were  made  of  stone,  chipped,  ham- 
mered, and  ^M'onnd  from  Hint  or  some  other  iiard  rock. 
Ilis  clothin;^  was  made  of  skin.  Many  tribes  made 
jxtttery  of  a  very  simple  kind,  nsefnl  for  dishes  and 
cookin<^  iitejisils.  Their  permanent  dwelliii'^s  were  as 
varied  as  the  re;.'ions  which  they  inhabited,  yet  in  their 
mova!)le  Iodides  or  tipis,  whi<di  were  made;  of  skins  or 
bark,  one  type  prevaile(l  over  almost  the  whole  conti- 
nent. While  the  subsistence  of  the  people  was  lar<j[ely 
derived  from  huntin*^  and  fishint^,  or  from  the  wild 
fruits  of  the  earth,  yet  a  very  large  })roportion  of  the 
tiibes  practised  a,i^ricultnro.  This  is  especially  true  of 
those  which  inhabited  the  country  of  abunchmt  rain- 
fall lying  between  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  the  Missis- 
sippi Kiver,  yet  it  was  by  no  means  confined  to  these 
alone,  for  many  tribes  of  the  higli  dry  plains,  of  Paw- 
nee, Dakota,  and,  in  ancient  times,  Algonquin  stock, 
raised  crops  of  corn,  beans,  and  S(juashes.  The  tribes 
of  the  extreme  southwest  depended  for  support  very 
largely  on  agriculture,  and  practised  irrigation. 

Picture  writings  were  used  among  almost  all  the 
tribes,  but  were,  of  course,  carried  to  their  greatest 
})erfection  among  those  families  wliose  culture  was 
highest.  Among  the  Xahuatl  and  ^fayas  of  the  south, 
and  the  Algonquins  and  Irorpiois  of  the  north,  such 
picture  writings — on  skin,  bark,  or  cloth — sometimes 
took  the  form  of  long  historical  documents,  or  served 
to  render  permanent  the  ritual  of  important  ceremo- 
nies. But  even  among  the  nomads  of  the  plains, 
paintings  on  skins  often  commemorated  the  important 
17 


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Photographii 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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244 


TIIH  STORY   OF   TIIH   INDIAN. 


evonts  of  tlie  year,  sometimes  by  moiitlis,  mid  some  of 
these  ran  back  for  many  years — even,  it  is  said,  for  a 
centiirv.  Siicli  writinijs  were,  if  not  history,  ac  least 
records. 

The  social  con  lition  of  the  North  Americans  has 
been  j^reatly  misunderstood.  Tiie  place  of  vonian  in 
the  tribe  was  not  that  of  a  slave  or  of  a  bea.3t  of  bur- 
den. The  existence  of  the  gentile  organization,  in 
most  ti'ibes  with  descent  in  the  female  line,  forbade 
any  such  subjugation  of  woman.  In  many  tribes 
women  took  })art  in  the  councils  of  the  chiefs  ;  in 
some,  women  were  even  the  tribal  rulers ;  while  in 
all  they  received  a  fair  measure  of  respect  and  affec- 
tion from  those  related  to  them.  At  a  council  held 
in  1701  with  the  Huron-Iroquois  the  women  spoke  to 
the  American  commissioner  as  follows  :  "  You  ought 
to  hear  and  listen  to  what  we  women  shall  speak  as 
well  as  the  sachems,  for  we  are  the  owners  of  this  land, 
and  it  is  ours.  It  is  we  that  plant  it  for  our  and  their 
use.  Hear  ns,  therefore,  for  we  speak  of  things  that 
concern  us  and  our  children." 

Among  the  Mokis  and  other  Pueblos,  and  among 
the  Navajoes,  men  and  women  work  together  in  the 
lields.  With  the  Mokis  the  young  unmarried  women 
are  not  expected  or  allowed  to  ])erform  such  heavy 
work  as  carrying  water  up  the  mesa,  and  with  the 
Navajoes  a  man  may  even  cut  out  and  sew  a  buckskin 
shirt.  Just  at  present,  the  keeper  of  the  tribal  medi- 
cine of  the  Kiowas  is  a  wonnin,  and  in  the  same  tribe 
the  grandmother  practically  rules  the  family,  although 
she  works  as  hard  as  the  other  women.  Among  the 
Cheyennes  the  woman  has  great  influence. 

The  notion  that  women  were  slaves  no  doubt  had 
its  origin  in  the  fact  that  their  duties  are  such  as  civ- 


I  -:^;;: 


mmmmm 


mmmmmm 


mie  of 
,  for  a 
D  least 

ns  luis 
mil  in 
)f  bur- 
[011,  ill 
orbiide 
tribes 
fs  ;   ill 
hile  ill 
i  uffec- 
il  licld 
poke  to 
I  ought 
)ejik  us 
is  land, 
id  their 
ijrs  that 

among 
'  in  the 

women 
h  heavy 
v'ith  the 
luckskin 
il  niedi- 
me  tribe 
ilthoiigh 
Long  the 


Dubt  had 
1  as  civ- 


Piiinled  Lo(l<ro  Skin. 
From  Forest  and  Stream. 

This  is  the  dressod  skin  of  a  biifTalo  cow,  and  once  fornie<l  part  of  the  lining  of  a  lodpro.  Oi\  it  Red  f'rane.  a 
r?lac'l<loot  warrior,  has  insorihed  the  record  of  some  of  the  more  important  events  of  his  life.  It  is  a  line  example 
of  picture  writing;. 

The  dotted  lines  which  run  irregularly  through  the  cut  represent  the  tracks  of  Red  Crane  as  lie  travelled 
about  over  the  country.  It  will  be  seen  wiiere  on  one  occasion  he  started  out  with  a  gun  and  soon  shot  an  elk  ; 
that  then  he  went  on  farther  and  met  an  enemy,  armed  only  with  a  bow  and  arrow,  wh<mi  lie  killed.  A  little 
farther  alonp;  three  st-alps.  with  a  hand  painted  at  the  corner  of  each  one.  show  his  success  on  his  war  journey, 
while  later  he  took  a  gun,  three  more  scali)s,  and  a  mule.  Almost  in  the  centre  of  the  plate  stands  a  horse  tied 
by  the  fore  leg  to  a  pin  in  front  of  a  lodge  ;  this  animal  he  cut  loose  and  rode  it  away.  In  anolhei-  jjlace  a  pic- 
tiu'e  tells  of  the  day  when  Red  Crane,  with  six  companions,  was  siUTounded  by  his  enemies  in  a  jiatch  of  brush. 
The  two  charging  grizzl.y  bears  call  up  dangers  to  wiiich  lie  was  exposed  while  hunting,  and  the  figure  of  the 
eagle  recalls  some  jieculiar  experience  that  he  had  while  catching  these  birds  Other  strange  adventures,  in 
which  a  beaver,  a  squirrel,  a  fisher,  and  an  otter  had  some  i)art,  are  written  down  in  the  fragment  reproduced. 

This  is,  in  fact,  a  primitive  manuscript,  a  diary  or  notebook  wliich  served  to  keep  fresh  in  its  writer's  mind 
the  events  of  his  whole  life.    The  skiu  measures  about  five  by  seven  feet. 


WF 


y^f    ! 


>ki\ 


Till-:    NORTH    AMKltlCAXS. 


24.-) 


ilizc'd  men  commonly  rcf^iird  as  toil,  while  the  more 
arduous  pursuits  of  hunting  and  wiir  are  looked  upon 
by  white  men  us  umusements.  As  n  nuittcr  of  fact, 
tlie  labours  of  tliis  sava<^e  life  were  not  uneveidy 
divided  between  the  sexes.  In  their  home  life  the 
Indians  were  mneh  like  other  people.  The  men,  as  a 
rule,  were  affectionate  husbands  and  fathers,  often  un- 
dergoing severe  sacrillees  and  privations  for  the  sake 
of  their  families.  Parents  were  devotedly  attached  to 
tiieir  children,  and  a  strong  feeling  existed  between 
the  members  of  a  family,  even  though  the  tie  of  blood 
nniting  them  was  remote. 

Another  misconception  of  Indian  character  has 
obtained  a  firm  footing  in  the  popular  mind.  It  is 
generally  believed  that  tliese  people  are  grave,  taci- 
turn, and  sullen  in  their  ordinary  life.  This  is  far 
from  being  true.  Instead,  they  are  fond  of  society, 
gossipy,  great  talkers,  with  a  keen  sense  of  humour  and 
great  fpiickness  of  I'cpartee.  In  their  villages  and  their 
cam^ps,  frefpient  visits  were  paid  from  lodge  to  lodge. 
In  time  of  plenty,  feasts  were  continual,  and  social 
gatherings  for  dancing,  story-telling,  or  conversation 
occurred  more  often  than  in  civilized  communities. 
Constantly  among  young  men,  and  often  among  young 
women,  were  formed  friendships  which  remind  one  of 
the  attachment  that  existed  between  David  and  Jona- 
than, and  such  friendships  frequently  lasted  through 
life,  or  were  interrupted  only  when  family  ties  were 
assumed. 

It  is  in  the  system  of  government  devised  by  some 
of  them  that  the  Xortli  Americans  show  their  greatest 
advance  in  culture.  The  so-called  civilizations  of  the 
south — of  Peru  and  Mexico — while  much  higher  than 
those  of  tribes  inhabiting  the  territory  now  the  United 


BWiT 


'JiU^ 


'I:  -J 


iHO 


'I'ilK   S'I'olJV   OF   TIIK    INDIAN. 


Stiitcs  and  Canada,  vet  dilTiTcd  from  thcni  in  dcixivc 
rather  tluin  in  kind,  and  tiie  Icai^Mu;  of  the  Irorinois, 
since  it  lias  been  tliorouirldy  unikTstood,  lias  chal- 
lenged admiration  both  for  its  organization  and  il.s 
l)urposes.  This  was  an  oU'ensivo  and  defensive  feder- 
ation of  live  tribes — the  Unondagas,  (Jneidas,  Senecas, 
Cavu<;as,and  Mohawks — formed  by  the  Onondaga  chief 
Hiawatha  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Of  it  Mr.  Hale  says:  "The  system  he  devised  was  to 
be  not  a  loose  and  transitory  league  but  a  permanent 
government.  While  each  nation  was  to  retain  its  own 
council  and  management  of  local  affairs,  the  general 
control  was  to  be  lodged  in  a  fedei-al  senate,  composed 
of  representatives  to  be  elected  by  each  nation,  liold- 
ing  olllce  during  good  behaviour,  and  acknowledged  as 
ruling  chiefs  throughout  the  whole  confederacy.  Still 
further  and  more  remarkable,  the  federation  was  not 
to  be  a  limited  one.  It  was  to  be  indefinitely  expan- 
sible. The  avowed  design  of  its  ]nirjiose  was  to  abolish 
war  altoo-ether."  As  is  well  said  bv  Dr.  lirinton,  "Cer- 
tainly  this  scheme  was  one  of  the  most  farsighted,  and 
in  its  aim  beneficent,  which  any  statesman  has  ever 
designed  for  man." 

As  a  rule,  the  government  of  the  Indians  was  a 
simple  democracy.  The  cliiefs  were  usually  elected — 
though  sometimes  hereditary — and  held  office  for  life, 
or  until  advancing  years  caused  their  resignation.  As 
has  been  said,  women  were  sometimes  made  chiefs. 
Often  the  chief  of  a  tribe  was  chosen  from  the  chiefs 
of  the  gentes  by  his  fellow  chiefs.  In  one  of  the 
tribes  of  the  Iroquois  league  the  council  which  elected 
the  chief  was  composed  altogether  of  women.  But 
the  chief's  power  was  not  absolute.  In  minor  mat- 
ters which   pertained  to  the  ordinary  affairs  of  the 


'J"  I  IK   NoliTIl    AMKKICANS. 


in: 


hold- 


was  a 

3cteil — 

or  life, 

m.     As 

chiefs. 

chiefs 

of  the 

elected 

But 

)r  mat- 

of  the 


everythiy  life  of  the  people,  he  acti-d  independently 
an<i  his  orders  wei'e  oheyed,  hut  ^M'ave  eoneenis,  sui-h 
as  (piarrels  ))et\veen  jiroininent  nu'ii,  relations  with 
TU'iirhhouring  trihes,  the  making  of  war  or  jieaee,  were 
discussed  in  a  council  of  chiefs  aiul  prominent  men, 
wheiv  each  individual  was  at  liherty  to  express  his 
opinion  ami  to  cast  his  vote.  'J'he  head  chief  acti'd 
as  the  presidinj;  ollieer  of  such  council,  atid  if  he  w:is 
u  stron<j:  man  his  views  carried  ,irreat  weight;  hut  un- 
less he  could  win  over  to  his  side  a  nuijority  of  the 
council  he  had  to  yield.  Thus  the  chief's  authority 
was  j)ersonal  rather  than  oflicial,  but  for  this  very  rea- 
son it  was  strong;  for,  where  the  oflice  was  elective, 
that  man  was  nuide  chief  who  had  proved  by  liis  deeds 
from  childhood  to  middle  age  that  he  was  a  more  able 
man  than  his  fellows — that  he  was  brave  in  war,  wise 
in  })eace,  careful  for  the  well-being  of  his  ])eoi)le  in 
the  everyday  alTairs  of  life,  generous  and  kiiully,  yet 
firm — in  short,  that  he  was  a  leader  in  time  of  war 
and  a  father  in  time  of  peace.  His  council  was  com- 
posed of  men  young  and  old,  some  one  of  whom  might 
later  take  his  place. 

I  give  a  brief  sketch  of  the  past  and  jiresent  homes 
and  conditions  of  some  of  the  more  important  of  the 
North  American  family  stocks. 

ALCiONQlIX. 

The  area  occupied  by  this  family  was  far  more  ex- 
tensive than  that  held  by  any  other  North  American 
stock.  On  the  Atlantic  seaboard  they  controlled  the 
territory  from  Labrador  on  the  north  to  North  Caro- 
lina on  the  south.  From  T^abrador  westward,  tribes 
of  this  stock  occupied  all  of  British  America  nearly  to 
the  Rocky  Mountains  and  south  of  Peace  Kiver  and 


iii 


■If  f 


!  I 


tif,  i 


248 


Till-:   STOliV    OF   Till-:    INDIAN. 


(Mmivliill  Iiivcr.  Tlicy  also  lu'M  |tarts  of  wliat  are  ii(»w 
North  Dakota,  Mijiiu'sota,  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  and  Mis- 
souri, all  of  Illinois,  Indiana,  Kentucky,  und  West 
Vir^nnia,  and  most  of  .Michijjfan,  Ohio,  and  Maryland. 
There  was  a  settlement  in  South  Carolina,  and  a  west- 
ern branch  had  pushed  its  way  into  South  Dakota  and 
Wyoniin<,%  aiul  westward  into  Colorado.  So  other 
family  of  North  Americans  held  territory  at  all  com- 
parable for  extent  or  for  exeellence — either  in  fertility 
or  abundaiu'e  of  game — with  that  possessed  by  the  Al- 
gonquins,  who,  in  numbers,  intelligence,  and  physical 
qualities,  stand  anu)ng  the  first  of  the  families  of 
North  American  Indians. 

It  is  impossible  to  (!onjecture  what  were  the  num- 
bers of  the  AIgon(|uins  before  the  coming  of  the 
whites,  but  we  may  inuiginc  that  they  were  large.  If 
the  territory  which  they  iidiabited  was  thiidy  settled, 
it  was  also  vast.  Most  of  the  soutlieastern  tribes  of 
this  stock  })ractised  agriculture  as  well  as  liunting, 
and  inhabiting  as  they  did  a  fertile  country,  which 
also  abounded  in  game  and  in  natural  fruits,  it  nu»y 
bo  conjectured  that  they  fouiul  little  or  no  difficulty 
in  supporting  life.  It  is  not  likely  that  in  primitive 
times  they  often  suffered  from  liunger.  They  were 
brave,  too,  and  well  able  to  defend  themselves  against 
the  attacks  of  their  enemies,  ami  there  would  seem  to 
be  no  reason  why  this  naturally  vigorous  stock  should 
not  have  been  very  numerous,  at  least  until  it  ap- 
proached the  point  where  the  food  question  became 
troublesome. 

In  the  vast  territory  occupied  by  the  Algonquins 
there  were  many  different  tribes,  and  it  is  not  to  be 
imagined  that  all  of  these  recognised  the  tie  of  blood 
which  connected  them,  or  that  all  of  this  family  were 


■1 '' 


TIIK    NdKTII    AMMUICANS. 


241) 


urns 
0  be 
)lood 
were 


nocossjirily  fririuls  jmd  iillitvs.  'l\w  reverse  of  tliis  \v;is 
true,  aiul  <iii!irrels  .mil  Wiir.s  between  dilTerent  tribes 
jirobiibly  took  pliiee  fre(|ueiitly.  Vet  often  tl»e  tribes 
of  tbis  bb)oil  united  a^^ainst  tbe  lieree  Iro<|nois,  whoso 
territory  jilxiut  the  easternmost  of  the  (Ireat  liakes  and 
tlie  upper  St.  Lawreiiee  Kiver,  lay  in  tlie  very  midst  of 
tlie  Al^'on(piin  hinds, and  another  division  of  wiiieli  bor- 
dered tiiese  hmds  uj)on  tbe  south.  IJetween  tliese  two 
great  families  tiiere  was  a  dee])  and  iiitter  liostiiity, 
sometimes  interrupted  by  inti-rvals  of  peace,  wiiieh, 
liowever,  were  not  of  h)n;.f  (hiration.  'I'o  this  rule  the 
Wyandots,  deseendanis  of  the  old  Ilurons,  were  a  no- 
table exception.  They  were  uniformly  allies  of  the 
AI<,a)ii(|uins. 

The  date  at  wbieh  tbe  westernmost  l)raiudies  of  the 
Al^ifonquin  stock  came  to  their  {)resent  bomes  is  com- 
paratively recent,  for  it  is  within  the  last  two  liundred 
and  lifty  years  that  tbe  Arajiaboes — includinj^  tbe  (!ros 
Ventres  of  tbe  prairie — tlie  lUackfeet,  and  the  Chey- 
ennes  reached  tbe  Continental  Divide.  If  we  may 
believe  Chevennc  tradition,  tbev  were  tlie  first  tribe 
to  penetrate  as  far  as  tbe  liocky  ^[ountains.  Their 
oral  history  tells  tbat  with  tbe  Arapaboes  they  came 
into  tbe  Black  Hills  country,  in  Dakota,  about  two 
bundred  and  twenty-five  years  ago,  having  journeyed 
from  tbe  northeast,  perhaps  originally  from  tbe  shores 
of  I-.ake  Superior,  or  })ossibly  of  Hudson  Bay,  for 
they  describe  an  immense  body  of  water  in  a  barren, 
treeless  country,  abounding  in  great  rocks.  The  Black- 
feet  came  next.  They  say  that  not  many  generations 
ago  tbey  lived  near  Peace  Kiver,  far  from  tbe  moun- 
tains. To  tbe  east  of  them  were  tlie  timber  Crees, 
and  to  tbe  nortli  tribes  of  Athabascan  stock.  They 
made  their  way  slowly  soutli  and  west,  and  probably 


2:)U 


Till-:  STUUV   UF   TllK    INDIAN. 


readied  tlie  Kocky  Mountains  less  tluui  one  liundrecl 
and  lift}'  years  m;^'o. 

'J'lie  I'ollowin^f  list  of  llic  [nincipal  trilies  of  tiio 
Al^'onquin  stock  is  taken  in  ])arL  from  Urinton  and 
from  rowel!  : 


!      i 


!,/ 1       I 


i>i 


f 


^;     yr 

i 

:  ) 

■■k^ 

;'«!{ fe 

:|.      ■ 

1 

1        ■■! 

AuN'AKi  =  "castlaiKlcrs."     Novii  Scotia  and  south  bank  of  tlio 

St.  liiiwrciicc  Uivcr. 
Alooxc^iin  —  Itcoplc  living;  "on  the  other  >i(Ic"  of  the  streain. 

North  of  tho  St.  Lawrence  Uiver,  Ontario,  and  t^neliec. 
AuAi'AiioK  = '•  truih'rs"  (0  (l)unl)ar).      l-'iaiiks    of    the   Kocky 

Mountains  from  IMack  Hills  to  liead  waters  of  the  Arkansas 

IJiver. 
Blackmjot.     l"'lanks   of  the    Rocky  ^fountains   from  the  Sas- 
katchewan Kiver  south  to  Yellowstone  River. 
Cin::YKNXK  =  "  red   or   i)ainted" — i.  e..  alien,  so-called   Ity  tho 

Sioux  (Clark).     Flanks  of  tlie  Rocky  IMountains  from  Ulack 

Hills  to  head  waters  of  Arkansas  River. 
CuEK,  ai)l)reviuted    from   Kiristinon  =  "killer "  (?).      Southern 

and  western  shores  of  Hudson  JJay,  west  to  Rocky  3Ioun- 

tains. 
Delawark,  or  Lcni  Lennpi  =  "original,  or  principal,  men." 

Along  the  Delaware  Kiver. 
Illinois,  from  ilini  =  "men."    On  the  Hlinois  Kiver. 
Kickapoo  =  people  of  the  river,  "easily  navigable."     Upper 

Hlinois  River. 
Mahican,  a  dialectic  form  of  ^lolicgan,  but  a  distinct  tril)c. 

Lower  Hudson  River. 
Miami  =  "pigeon."     ]\Iiami  and  Upper  Wabash  Rivers. 
iMiKMAK.     Nova  Scotia. 

Mn.LsiT  =  "broken  talkers."    New  Brunswick. 
Mexomixi  =  "  wild  rice  people."    About  Green  Bay,  Wisconsin. 
MoiiEGAN.     Lower  Connecticut  River. 
MoxTAONAis  =  "  mountaineers  "   (French    writers).      Noitliern 

shores  of  lower  St.  Lawrence  River. 
Massachusett  =  people  "at  the  Blue  Hills."    On  Massachu- 
setts Bay. 
MoNTAUK  =  people  at  the  "  nianito  tree."    Eastern  Long  Island. 
Naxticoke.     Eastern  shore  of  Chesapeake  Bay. 


rilK    NoKTIl    A.MKlilCANS. 


2:.  1 


•  f  tho 


O.iMiwA  (ir  Ciiii'i'iiwA  —  |»('(i|ilt' (if  tho '■  imckcrctl  iii(i((ii>iii  "  lO 

(W'uri'i'ii).     (►iitiiriii  UivtT. 
I'antko.     Nurlliol'  Paiiiliiii  ShuikI. 

I'l  VNK  ASIIA  =  '•  Wi'Slt'fll   |it'n|ilc."      Oil   l(i\V(  I"  \\"llliJl>ll   KMvcr. 
l'(nTA\VAT(»MI  =:  '"  lilnWul'S  " — i.  (.'.,  '•coUlltil  lilVinillM  r>."      SnlUll 

of  liiiki'  Mi(liii,'iiii. 
Sac  (Kox)  =  "  ytllow  lurtli  "  iH't>i'lt'  (Drake).    AImhiI  luick  Hivcr, 

Illinois. 
Shawano  or  Siiawndk  =  soutlicni    jpcoiilf.      On    Cuiiiln  tIiiikI 

Kivcr. 

^[ost  of  tlie  oiistoni  tribes  of  tin;  AI^l^oihiiiIiis  liuvo 
loiifj  been  extinct,  Iniving  eillier  perislied  utterly,  or 
tlu'ir  scattered  fra<;nients  hiivini;  migrated  and  joined 
otlier  tribes,  in  wliieh  tliev  bavo  become  merged,  lint 
these  extinct  tribes  will  not  be  wholly  forgotten,  for 
their  names  are  fixed  in  the  geogra})hy  of  this  coun- 
try, and  will  tlius  be  preserved  so  long  as  America 
shall  eiulure. 

In  tbe  Seventh  Annual  K'eport  of  the  Uurean  (»f 
Ethnology,  ])uljlished  in  1S1»1,  the  piesent  number  of 
the  Algonquin  race  is  given  as  ninety-ilve  thousand, 
of  which  about  sixty  thousand  are  in  Canada  and  the 
remainder  in  the  United  States.  !Many  of  these  last 
are  self-supporting  and  more  or  less  civilized,  though 
still  clinging  tenaciously  to  many  of  their  ancient  be- 
liefs and  practices.  The  same  volume  contains  a  list 
of  the  tribes  otlicially  recognized,  and  their  present 
numbers  and  locations,  com})iled  chiefly  from  the  lie- 
port  for  18fs9  of  the  United  States  Commissioner  of 
Indian  Affairs  and  the  Canadian  Keport  for  1888, 
which  gives  the  following  facts  : 

Abnaki.  inchuling  Passainaquoddios  and  Milit«its  in  Maine,  New 

linniswiek,  and  Queliec.     1.8T4(?). 
Alconquin,  in  Ontario  and  Quobce.  Canada.    4,707  (?). 
Arapahoe,  at  Cheyenne  agency,  Okhilioma  Territory,  and  at 

Shoshoni  agency,  Wyoming.    2,157. 


P 


.! 


252 


THE  STORY   OF   TllH   INDIAN. 


i. 


ii.:i,' 


Tlii^  Atso'iiii  or  Gros  Ventres  of  the  Pniirio,  a  detached  Imnd 
of  the  Arapahnos,  are  not  mentioned  in  this  list.  Tiiey  ai'e 
at  the  Fort  Helknap  ap'ney  in  northern  Montana  with  the 
Assinihoines.  and  niiinl)er  about  oOJ). 

lii.AcKKooT,  at  tlie  lihu'lvfoot  ai,M'iH'y,  Montana,  at  Calgary,  and 
on  Helly  River,  in  Northwest  Territories,  (i,T4;}. 

CfiKYKXXi;,  at  Cheyenne  agency,  Oklalioina  Territory,  Tongue 
River  agency,  Montana,  and  Fine  Ridge  agency,  South  Da- 
kota, 0,473. 

Ckkk,  in  Manitoba  and  the  Xort invest  Territories.  A  few  Crees 
who  were  engaged  in  the  Riel  rebellion  took  refuge  in  Mon- 
tana, where  tiiey  still  remain,  supporting  themselves  by 
trapping  and  the  sale  of  articles  which  they  numufacture. 
17,:JSG. 

Delawakk,  about  one  thousand  are  incorporated  and  live  with 
the  Cherokees  in  the  Indian  Territory,  others  are  with  the 
Wichita?  in  tiie  Iiulian  Territory,  the  Scnccas  and  Onon- 
dagas  in  New  York,  the  Chippewas  on  the  Thames  River 
in  Ontario,  the  Six  Nations  on  Grand  River,  Ontario,  and 
with  the  Chippewas  at  the  Pottawatomi  agency  in  Kansas. 
1, :.■)()(?). 

KicKAPoo — a  part  are  at  the  Sac  and  Fox  agency,  Indian  Terri- 
tory, others  at  the  Pottawatomi  agency,  Kansas,  and  some 
in  Mexico.    702  (?). 

Mexomini,  at  Green  Bay  agency,  ^Yisconsin.     1,311. 

Miami,  Quai)aw  agency,  Indian  Territory,  and  in  Indiana. 
374  (f). 

MicMAc.  in  Xova  Scotia,  Xew  Ri-unswick,  Prince  Edward  Island, 
and  QueV)ec,  Canada.    4.108. 

MissiSAUOA,  with  Monsoni,  Muskegon,  etc..  in  Ontario  and  Ru- 
pert's Land,  Canada.     4,790. 

]\IoxTA(iAXis,  Quebec.     1.019. 

Nascoai'EE,  Quebec.    2,H0(). 

Ojibwa  or  Chippewa,  at  White  Earth  agency,  jNIinnesota ;  La 
Pointe  agency,  Wisconsin  ;  IMackina  agency,  IMichigan ; 
Devil's  Lake  agency.  North  Dakota;  Pottawatomi  agency, 
Kansas  ;  Chippewas  of  Lake  Superior,  Lake  Huron.  Sarnia, 
on  the  Thames,  on  Walpole  Island,  on  3Ianitoulin  and  Cock- 
burn  Islands,  all  in  Ontario,  Canada,  and  Sauteux  and  Chip- 
pewas in  Manitoba.    31,928  (?). 


THE  NORTH   AMHRR'ANS. 


253 


(1  l)an(l 
iu'V  are 
villi  the 

iry,  and 

Toiiirne 
)Uth  Dii- 

ew  Crces 

in  Mon- 

olves   by 

uCiicUire. 

live  with 
with  the 
ml  Onon- 
iies  River 
tiirio,  and 
u  Kansas. 

ian  Torri- 
and  some 


Indiana, 
^rd  Island, 
lo  and  Ru- 


icsota ;  T^a 

iMieliigiin ; 

|ni  agency, 

Ml.  Sarnia, 

and  Coek- 

and  Chip- 


Ottawa,  at  Qiiapaw  agency.   Indian  Territory  ;    at    Mackina 

agency,  Michigan;  on  Manitoulin  and  C'ockhurn  Ishinds, 

Ontario,  Canada.     4,VM  (i). 
Peokia.  (^iiapaw  agency.  Indian  Territory.     IHO. 
I'OTTAWA'ioMi,  at  the  Sac  and  Fox  agency,  Oidahoina  Teri'itory; 

I'ottawatomi    agency,    Kansas;    Mackinu    agency,    Miihi- 

gan  ;    Prairie   P»and,  Wit^consin  ;   on  Walpole  Ishmd,  ()n- 

tario,  Canachi.     1,4(15. 
Sac  and  Fox,  at  Sac  and  Fox  agency,  Oklahoma  Territory;  Sac 

and  Fox  agency,  Iowa;  Pottawatoini  agency,  Kansas.    UT-'u 
SilAWNKK,    Qiiapaw   agency.    Indian    Territory  ;    Sac   and   l''ox 

agency,  Oklahoma  Territory;  incorporated  witii  the  C'hero- 

kecs,  Indian  Territory.     1.51!). 
STOCKiuunciE  (Mohican),  at  Green   P>ay.  Wisconsin,  and  in  New 

York  witii  the  Tusearoras  and  Senecas.     117. 


ATir.\l$AS(AX. 

What  tlie  Algonquin  linguistic  family  was  to  east- 
ern North  America  the  Athabascan  was  to  the  west. 
Both  touched  the  land  of  the  Innuit  on  the  north,  and 
the  east  and  west  range  of  c:i'^h  covered  sixty  degrees 
of  longitude,  so  that  between  Hudson  Way  and  the 
Rocky  Mountains  the  countries  of  the  two  overlapped  ; 
but  while  the  southernmost  tribe  of  the  Mgonquin  was 
only  thirty  degrees  from  the  northern  limit  of  the 
family,  at  least  forty  degrees  of  latitude  sejiarated  the 
Athabascans  of  the  Arctic  from  those  of  Mexico.  This 
great  north  and  south  area  was,  however,  not  contin- 
uous. There  was  a  wide  territory,  extending  over  four- 
teen or  fifteen  degrees  of  latitude,  where — exce})t  for 
a  few  small  settlements  ou  the  Pacific  coast — no  Atha- 
bascans were  found. 

Although  the  area  occupied  by  the  Athabascans 
was  so  extensive,  it  presented  in  its  adaptability  for 
human  occupancy  a  marked  contrast  to  that  possessed 
by  the  Algonquins.     These,  in  their  southern  terri- 


i: 


^^Bi  1' ' 

:          1 

i      j 

'       ,1 

ffn 

J  ! 


I  I 


:f' 


i       ■ 

1 1  i  vf 


f       !'■■( 


^ 


254 


THE  STUUV   OF   THE   INDIAN. 


torv,  inhabited  a  couiitrv  of  abiiiulant  rainfall,  fertile 
and  admirably  adapted  for  a^i^ritniltiiral  pursuits,  while 
those  Athabascans  who  were  not  dwellers  in  the  frozen 
north  occupied  an  arid,  desert  country,  where  rains  are 
infrequent  and  agi'iculture  impossible,  except  by  means 
of  irrigation. 

Physically,  the  members  of  this  family  are  moder- 
ately well  developed,  being  often  tall  and  muscular 
and  very  enduring,  but  those  of  the  north  are  said  to 
be  short-lived.  They  are  a  strong  and  masterful  peo- 
l)le,  and  Mr.  Mooney,  who  has  seen  much  of  them, 
writes  me  :  "  Excepting  in  the  extreme  north  we  find 
the  Tinne  tribes  almost  everywhere  asserting  and  exer- 
cising superiority  over  their  neighbours.  This  applies 
to  the  detached  baiuls  in  Washington,  Oregon,  and 
('alifornia,  and  to  the  Xavajoes  in  the  south.  The 
Tinne  tribes  in  California  have  imposed  their  lan- 
guage and  tribal  regulations  upon  their  neighbours. 
The  Xavajoes  are  pre-eminent  stock  raisers,  weavers, 
and  metal  workers.  The  Apache  are  our  wiliest  In- 
dian fighters,  and  were  steadily  driving  the  civilized 
Mexicans  southward,  when  the  United  States  inter- 
fered." 

As  might  be  sujiposed  from  the  distance  which 
separates  the  homes  of  the  northern  and  southern 
groups  of  this  family,  the  two  diifered  widely  in  their 
ways  and  modes  of  life.  The  Athabascans  of  the  north 
were  hunters  and  fishermen.  In  summer  they  followed 
the  great  game  or  spread  their  nets  in  the  lakes :  in 
winter  they  harnessed  their  dogs  to  the  sledges  and 
careered  over  the  frozen  wastes.  The  desert-inhabit- 
ing Apaches  and  Navajoes  of  the  south  know  neither 
dog  sledges  nor  boats.  They  are  mountaineers  and 
hunters,  famed  for  their  endurance  and  able  to  take 


fertile 

,  wliile 

i'rozi'U 

.ins  iirc 

'  llR'Un.i 


mode  I'- 
ll sell  liir 
said  to 
[ill  peo- 
[  them, 
we  find 
id  exer- 
i  applies 
on,  and 
h.     Tlie 
leir  lan- 
ghbours. 
weavers, 
liest  In- 
civilized 
s  inter- 

which 
southern 
in  their 
Ihe  north 
followed 
lakes:  in 
Iges  and 
-inhabit- 
neither 
leers  and 
to  take 


5! 
O 


) 

■„  ■  1 

'(    l:i|     r    i 

1 

■IJI 

», 

i 

(il 

il    1 

Hi  '.; 


:.J||11::    :  r 


TIIK   XOIiTlI    AMHUICANS. 


1^5:) 


UJ1  tlic  truck  of  ji  doer,  iuul  bctwi-on  sunrise  and  sun- 
set to  run  him  down  iind  kill  liiru  with  u  knife.  Al- 
thougli  hunters,  they  Jire  also  tillers  of  the  soil,  viimnvr 
corn  jind  other  vegeta])les,  and  gathering  the  nuts  oi 
the  pifion,  the  bean  of  the  niesquite,  and  tiie  root  of 
the  American  aloe. 

The  Athabascans  use  lodges  of  skin  or  bark  in  the 
north,  and  in  the  south  rude  liuts  nuule  of  br-inches 
of  trees.  They  make  pottery  jind  wickerwoi-k  baskets, 
which  are  so  tightly  woven  that  they  serve  as  water 
vessels,  and  their  stone  metates  used  for  grindino-  corn 
are  far  more  etMcient  implements  than  the  mortar  in 
which  the  grain  was  pounded  by  tribes  further  to  tho 
east.  The  canoes  of  tiie  interior  tribes  of  the  north 
are  of  bark.  The  Xavajoes  have  long  been  renowned 
for  tho  handsome  blankets  whicli  they  weave.  This 
with  them  is  not  an  aboriginal  art,  but  is  borrowed 
from  their  immediate  neighbours  the  Mokis  and  Zunis, 
with  whom  and  with  some  northwest  coast  tribes  it  is 
aborigiiud,  for  the  latter  weave  excellent  blankets  from 
the  fleece  of  the  wild  white  goat. 

_  Among  the  tribes  of  this  family,  great  differences 
exist  in  the  gentile  systems  and  in  the  laws  of  con- 
sanguinity. In  some  tribes,  descent  is  in  the  female 
line,  and  a  man  considers  his  father  no  relation, 
while  in  other  tribes  the  son  belongs  to  his  father's 
gens. 

Of  the  northern  group  of  the  Athabascans,  the 
southernmost  tribe  inhabiting  the  central  region  are 
the  Sarsi,  who  for  many  years  have  lived  with  the 
Blackfeet.  These  are  an  offshoot  of  the  Beaver  In- 
dians, and,  according  to  tradition,  left  their  own  coun- 
try about  one  hundred  years  ago  on  account  of  a 
quarrel  with  another  camp  of  their  own  people,  and 


f 


.,!■ 


"if, 


L\j(l 


TIIK   STOIJY   OF  TIIK   INDIAN. 


I     ■: 


li 


niigratetl  soutlnviinl.     They  joined  tlio  Blackfeet,  and 
liiive  lived  witli  theni  ever  .since. 

Among  the  bej<t-kno\vn  tribes  of  Atiuibtisean  .stoek 
are  the 

Apaciik  =  '•enemies."     Arizona  and  Northern  Mexico. 

Atxa  =  "stranijers."     On  Copper  liiver,  Ala>ka. 

liKAVER.    On  IVaee  River,  British  America. 

Cnii'i'KWVAX  =  " pointed  coats."     Coast    of   Hudson   Bay  and 

nortli  of  Crees. 
Ilri'A.     California,  Trinity  IJivcr. 
Ki:xAi  =" people."     Kenai  [•eninsula,  Alaska. 
KecHiN  =  " people."     Yukon  River,  Alaska. 
Navajo  =  *' whetstone   or   knife- whetting  people"   (Mooncy). 

New  Mexico  and  Arizona. 
Nkiiaxi  =  "  yellow  knives  "  {I).     Upper  Stikine  River,  Alaska. 
Saks  I.     Jieaver  olTslioot. 
ShvAXi.     Upper  Peace  River,  British  America. 
Slave.     Upper  3Iaekenzie  Kiver,  British  America. 
Taki'LI  =  "carriers."     Fraser  Kiver,  British  Cohuubia. 
TuTi'TKXA.     Ro^ue  River,  Orejjon. 
UMPyi'A.     Near  Salem,  Orejjfon. 
Wailaki  =  j)eo[Uo    of    the    "northern    language."      Northern 

California. 

The  northern  tribes  of  this  group  are  more  gener- 
ally known  as  Hare  Indians,  Dog  Kibs,  Ciiippewyans, 
Yellow  Knives  (Nehaiii),  Strong  Bows,  Carrier  (Ta- 
kuli),  etc.  There  are  supposed  to  be  about  thirty- 
tlireo  thousand  Athabascans,  of  whom  about  one 
fourth  belong  to  the  northern  group.  Of  the  south- 
ern tribes  the  best  known  are  the  various  bands  of 
Apaches  inhabiting  Arizona  and  Mexico,  who  have 
shown  themselves  so  fierce  in  war  and  so  aj)t  in  escap- 
ing the  troops  sent  in  pursuit  of  them,  and  the  Kava- 
joes,  whose  fame  rests  iti  large  measure  on  the  peacefid 
art  of  blanket  weaving.  The  Apaches  are  still  more 
or  less  wild,  and  have  not  made  very  great  progress 


TIIH   NORTH    AMKiaCANS. 


toward  civilization  ;  but  the  Xavajoes  possess  somo  rat- 
tle, many  horses,  and  groat  herds  of  sliet'i)  and  goats, 
and  have  long  been  self-su})porLing.  'I'hey  are  well- 
disposed  and  industrious,  saving  and  progressive,  and 
in  advancement  toward  civilization  stand  high  among 
the  tribes  of  the  west.  They  probably  number  be- 
tween eighteen  and  twenty  thousand. 

The  small  tribes  of  Athabascans  of  the  Pacillc 
coast  are  at  various  agencies  in  California  and  Ore- 
gon, usually  with  tribes  of  other  stocks.  They  are 
moderately  advanced,  till  the  ground,  raise  some  live 
stock,  and  the  men  labour  for  the  whites  in  the  salmon 
canneries,  the  ho|  tields,  and  on  the  farms. 


DAKOTA. 

Six  States  of  the  Union  bear  the  names  of  tribes  of 
the  Dakota  stock,  and  of  late  years  no  group  of  North 
American  Iiulians  has  been  better  known  than  these. 
At  the  time  when  general  immigration  to  the  country 
west  of  the  Mississipjn  began,  this  family  occupied 
much  of  the  territory  entered  on  by  the  whites,  and 
for  a  number  of  years  conflicts  and  wars  were  frequent, 
culminating  in  18TG  \vitli  the  Custer  battle.  For  a 
few  years  after  that,  tlie  army  was  at  work  clearing  out 
the  scattered  camps  of  hostile  Sioux  in  Montana  and 
Dakota,  but  since  that  time  there  has  been  nothinjr  in 
the  nature  of  a  general  war  between  this  stock  and  the 
whites,  though  there  was  a  short-lived  but  bloody  out- 
break in  189U-'91. 

The  name  Dakota  or  Lahkota,  by  which  tlie  prin- 
cipal tribes  of  this  stock,  the  Sioux,  call  themselves, 
means  "confederated,"  "allied,"  while  the  commoner 
term  Sioux  is  a  French  corruption  of  an  Algonquin 
word,  nadowe'si-vg^  meaning  originally  "  snakes,"  and 


;'      r 


i 


'  i 


i: 


2.JS 


THK  STOliV   OF   Till-:    INDIAN. 


so  ononiii's.  Jii  this  sense  it  lias  been  nsed  1»}'  tlio 
Ojibwji  in  inodei'ii  times,  altiioiigii  not  as  applicMl  to 
tile  Sionx. 

History  and  tradition  (Ind  several  of  tlie  most  im- 
j)ortant  tribes  of  llie  Daivotas  o('enj)yin<(  upper  Mieiii- 
gan,  Wiseonsin,  and  eastern  ^linnesota,  tiiougii  long 
before  tliis  some  must  have  taken  the  journey  to  and 
aeross  the  (ireat  IMaiiis.  'I'lie  Crows  have  oeeiipied 
the  eastern  Hanks  of  the  Kocky  Mountains,  and  the 
Stonies — a  tribe  of  the  Assiniboines — the  mountains 
still  further  north  for  a  verv  long  time.  The  Assini- 
boines,  too,  must  long  have  lived  in  the  })rairie  coun- 
try of  what  is  now  eastern  North  Dakota,  for — accord- 
ing to  Cheyenne  tradition — they  were  there  when  these 
last  migrated  from  the  northeast.  It  is  probable,  how- 
ever, that  the  great  body  of  those  tribes  now  known  in 
the  vernacular  as  Sioux,  lived  in  earlv  historic  times 
about  the  western  great  l.ukes  and  the  head  waters  of 
the  Mississippi.  From  this  territory  they  were  driven, 
or  crowded  out,  by  the  westward  movement  of  the  Al- 
gonquin tribes  and  by  settlements,  and  spread  them- 
selves over  much  of  the  Clreat  Plains. 

An  eastern  origin  is  now  pretty  well  established  for 
this  stock,  for  in  Virginia,  North  and  South  Carolina, 
and  Mississi]ipi  were  the  homes  of  tribes  now  extinct, 
which  philologists  class  with  this  stock.*  Such  were 
the  Catawba  in  South  Carolina;  the  Tutelo,  Saponi, 
and  Woccon,  in  North  Carolina;  the  Occanecchi  in 
Virginia  ;  the  Biloxi  and  possibly  other  tribes  in  ]\Iis- 
sissipjii.  Catlin  has  showji  that  the  ]\randans  reached 
the  Missouri  Kiver  bv  travelling  down  the  Ohio.    With- 

*  Mooiiey,  The  Siouan  Tribes  of  the  East,  Bulletin  Bureau 
of  Ethnology,  Wusliington. 


THE  NOIITII    AMKUICANS. 


'2:>o 


ill  recent  times  a  number  of  the  Dakota  tribes  have 
occMpied  the  timbered  eountry,  and  liave  not  been 
dwellers  on  tlie  i)lain.s.  Sueh  arc  the  Winnebairoes, 
Usa<;es,  Qua[ni\vs,  Missonrias,  and  otiiers. 

IMiysically  and  intelleetually  tlie  Dakotas  stand 
lii*;!!,  an<l  in  stature  and  deveiojiment  the  mountain 
("rows  arc  exceeded  by  no  tribe  in  the  west,  unless  it 
be  t]»c  C'heyennes  and  Arapahoes. 

^lost  of  the  tribes  have  lost  the  afrrieultural  liabits 
wliicli  all  probably  once  possessed,  aiul  which  the  ^Ian- 
dans,  llidatsa,  -md  some  others  still  practise.  Otliers 
liave  only  recently  given  up  this  liabit,  as  occasionally 
shown  by  a  sub-tribal  name— as  Mini-co-o-ju — "They 
plant  by  the  water."  Some  of  the  Dakotas  manufac- 
tured pottery,  and  the  Ma?idans  even  made  blue  glass 
beads— after  the  coming  of  the  whites.  'J'his  tribe, 
too,  occupied  permanent  houses. 

There  was  the  widest  variation  in  the  gentile  svs- 
tern,  where  it  existed  at  all.  AVith  some,  descent  was 
in  the  male,  with  others,  in  the  female  line.  The 
chieftainship  was  hereditary,  descending  from  father 
to  son,  though  an  early  traveller  found  the  Winne- 
bagoes  ruled  over  by  a  woman  chief.  The  country 
held  by  the  Dakota  stock  in  modern  times  included 
a  part  of  Wisconsin  and  of  western  Minnesota,  most 
of  North  Dakota,  Iowa,  and  ^lissouri,  more  than  half 
of  Arkansas,  ^fontana,  and  Wyoming,  South  Dakota, 
and  a  large  part  of  eastern  Nebraska  and  Kansas,  and 
parts  of  British  Ame'ica  near  the  Kocky  Mountains. 
Within  the  last  hundred  years  their  neighbours  have 
been,  on  the  north  and  east  and  a  part  of  the  west, 
Algonquins ;  on  the  south  Pawnees,  Shoshonis,  and 
Kiowas ;  and  on  the  west,  Shoshonis,  Kiowas,  and  Al- 
gonquins. Besides  this,  their  territory  was  interrupted 
18 


w 


I      I 


2rt0 


TIIK  STOUY  OK  TIIK   INDIAX. 


by  sottlcmonts  ot  Pawnees,  wlio,  lmviM<(  invaded  tlicir 
territory,  liad  driven  out,  eonciiiered,  or  were  still  at 
war  with  various  ti'ibes  of  this  stock. 

Most  of  the  plains  tribes  of  Dakota  stoek  depended 
for  food  upon  the  bulTalo  and  were  wanderers,  follow- 
ing the  herds  from  j)laee  to  place,  and,  on  the  prairie, 
dwelling  in  the  coni(!al  skin  lodges,  which  were  tho 
common  habitations  of  the  plains  tribes. 

The  i)ri!icipal  tribes  of  the  Dakota  stock  are  : 

AnsoRAKA  =  "Crows"  (?).    (Tlie  imme  seems  to  refer  to  sonio 

kind  of  l)inl.) 
AssiNinoiNKS  =  '•  stoiH'  boilers."    On  Saskiitchewaii,  Suuris,  and 

Assiiiit)oiiie  Kivcr,  Mritish  Ainericu. 
BiLoxi.     liiloxi  IJay,  Mississippi. 
Catawba.    Catawba  Iliver,  South  Carolina. 
Crows  (or  Al)soraka).    On  Yellowstone  liiver,  North  Dakota. 
Dakota  Proimcr  or  Sioux  =  "confederate."  Western  Minnesota, 

North  and  South  Dakota. 
Iowa  ="  sleepy  ones."    On  the  Iowa  River.  Iowa. 
Kaxsa  or  Kaw.     On  the  Kansas  Hiver,  Kansas. 
Maxdax.     Upper  Missouri  Hiver,  North  Dakota. 
IIn)ATsA  or  ^NIixiTARis,  a  branch  of  the  Crows  =  " those  who 

cross  the  water"  (Miniiari).     rp[)er  Missouri  Kiver,  North 

Dakota. 
MissouKiA  =  people  of  1  he  Oreat  Muddy.     Originally  on  lower 

Missouri  Iliver,  Missouri 
OccANEECHi.    Southern  Virginia. 

Omaha  =  "  upper  stream  people."     Niobrara  River,  Nebraska. 
Osage.    In  southern  Missouri. 
Oto.    On  lower  Platte  River,  Nebraska. 
PoxcA.    Northwestern  Nebraska. 
Quapaw  or  Arkansa,  "down  stream  people."    On  the  lower 

Arkansas,  Arkansas. 
Sapoxi.    Central  North  Carolina. 
WiXNEBAoo  =  •'  stinking  lake  people."    Eastern  Wisconsin. 

The  number  of  people  of  the  Dakota  stock  is  esti- 
mated to  be  about  45,000,  and  of  these  about  43,000 


icir 
ut 


(]0(l 


:- 


low 


iiru', 
the 


lower 


ruska. 


It) 

'II 


I    i. 


!1    ! 


l!^!' 


■I 


m 

hi  ''I 


TllK  NoliTII    AMKIilCANS. 


'2«'.l 


are  ill  tlic  riiitcd  StutoH.  Alumt  'M,000  hdoti;,'  to  tlic 
Sioiix  trilx's,  as  tlu'  term  is  commonly  applied,  1,^00 
to  tlio  Assiiiil)oin('S,  l.'^MX)  (o  tlu?  Omalias,  1,(;(M>  to  tlio 
()sii«,'('s,  ^,ti(i()  to  tiic  Wiiuu'l»ii<r(K'S,  and  ;{,(Hi(i  to  tlio 
Crows,  iiiciudiii^'  tlio  Miiiitaris  or  Ilidatsa.  Most  of 
these  Indians  iiave  made  considcraMe  pro;;ress  toward 
civilization.  Tliey  have  cattle,  cultivate  the  j:froun(l 
with  some  success,  and,  us  a  rule,  live  in  lo*:  houses. 


fV 


m, 


There  are  no  lon^^er  any  "  wild  "  Indians  amoni;  the 
and  tliey  are  becomin;,' — t!u)u<,di  slowly — a  fairly  hard- 
working part  of  the  j>opulation  of  the  West.  Tlu'lr 
various  reservations  and  aufenc.'ies,  of  which  there  are 
many,  are  situated  in  Wisconsin,  Minnesota,  the  Da- 
kotas,  Montana,  Nebraska,  Kansu.s  and  the  Indian 
Territory. 

IKOtil'OlS. 

In  tlio  earlv  liistorv  of  America  no  Indian  family 
was  better  known  tlian  the  Irorpiois — a  name  given  to  n 
group  of  tribes,  some  of  wliom  made  up  the  celebrated 
Six  Nations.  The  territory  occupied  by  this  family 
lay  wholly  in  the  east,  and  in  two  principal  situations. 
The  northernmost  of  tiiese  included  territory  on  both 
sides  of  the  St.  Lawrence  Kiver,  from  where  (Quebec 
now  stands,  westward  to  Lake  Huron,  all  about  Lakes 
Ontario  and  Erie,  and  south  to  the  Chesapeake  Bay. 
They  thus  held  portions  of  Canada,  Ohio,  ^licliigan, 
Central  New  York,  and  the  greater  part  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, southward  along  the  valley  of  the  Susquehanna 
to  the  salt  water.  The  other  Iroquois  were  established 
almost  in  one  body  in  Virginia,  Tennessee,  North  and 
South  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Alabama.  The  northern 
territory  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  lands  occupied 
by  the  Algonquins,  while  the  southern  group  of  the 


i1' 

I, 

r; 


•J 


r 


i     '  fi' 


t  i 


i.<    1 1 


If/       ! 


,!'i    '!, 


202 


THE  STOltY   OF   TIIK   INDIAN. 


tribes  lijid  for  iiciglibours  Algonqiiijis  on  the  nortli 
mid  west,  Diikotiis  on  the  east,  and  .Miiskogis  on  the 
south. 

No  Indian  family  excelled  the  Iroquois  in  physical 
development  or  in  culture.  The  records  of  the  civil 
war,  in  whicli  some  companies  of  Iroquois  fouglit, 
show  tiiat  these  stood  highest  of  any  bodies  (<f  our 
soldiers  in  stature  and  in  physical  strength  and  vigour. 
Intellectually  they  ranked  as  high.  The  league  of  the 
iive  nations — Cayugas,  ^Mohawks,  Oneidas,  Onondagas, 
and  Senecas — to  which  was  afterward  added  a  sixth, 
the  Tuscaroras,  alone  stamps  them  as  a  stock  whose 
intellectual  vigour  exceeded  that  of  their  neighbours. 
Tiieir  intelligence  was  shown  in  other  ways.  'I'hey 
were,  to  a  greater  extent  than  jdmost  any  other  Indian 
family,  agriculturists,  and  their  crops  supplied  each 
year  more  food  than  they  could  possibly  consume. 
They  lived  in  permanent  villages,  but  in  most  other 
respects  their  everyday  life  was  not  markedly  different 
from  that  of  other  Indians. 

It  was  among  the  Iroquois  that  the  gentile  system 
obtained  its  highest  developnu^nt  among  our  northern 
tribes.  Descent  was  in  the  female  line,  and  mothers 
in  the  Iroquois  villages  had  a  power  and  an  influence 
greater  than  those  of  the  men.  They  were  the  owners 
of  the  land  and  of  most  of  the  personal  property ;  they 
were  the  councillors  of  the  tribes,  and  sometimes  even 
its  chiefs.  The  ancient  gentile  system  of  these  people 
still  persists,  even  among  the  civilized  Iroquois,  on 
their  reservations  in  Central  New  York,  and  on  Grand 
River,  Ontario,  and  of  late  years  this  has  become  a 
cause  of  more  or  less  heartburning  and  dissatisfac- 
tion. Among  the  Senecas  to-day  half-breed  children 
of  an  Indian  father  and  a  white  woman  are  called  by 


THE   NORTH    AMKKK'AXS. 


203 


lorlh 
I  the 

,sic5il 

civil 

iiglit, 

f   0\U' 

Igour. 
[if  the 

sixth, 

ihoiirs. 

They 
Imlitm 
d  cat'h 
nsume. 
i  olhor 

'crcnt 

;viitoin 
•thorn 
lothors 

llUMlCO 

owners 
;  they 

es  even 
people 
ois,  on 
Grand 
come  a 
latisfac- 
ihildren 
lied  by 


the  Scnccas  whites,  are  not  allowed  to  draw  tribal  an- 
nuities, nor  to  liave  any  share  in  the  i)ublic  alTairs  of 
the  nation;  while  the  children  of  a  white  father  and 
an  Indian  mother  are  regarded  as  Indians,  and  have 
all  an  Indian's  ri-ihta  and  privilei^es.  The  same  ride 
holds  in  marria<;es  between  Indians  of  the  dilTereiit 
tribes,  the  child  bi'lon<,Mng  to  the  tribe  of  the  mother 
and  not  to  that  of  the  father.  This  matter  has  several 
times  come  np  in  the  courts  for  adjudication. 

The  southern  i;rou[)  of  the  Iroquois  included  the 
Cherokees  and  the  Tuscaroras,  the  former  chielly  in 
the  mountain  region  of  North  Carolina  and  Tennessee, 
and  the  latter  in  eastern  North  Carolina.  They  did 
not  dilTer  especially  from  their  northern  relations. 
Like  them,  they  built  contiected  houses  of  logs,  and 
fortilied  their  villagi's.  They  were  industrious  agri- 
culturists aiul  made  good  })ottery.  The  ancestors  of 
the  Cherokees  wen*  (juite  certainly  the  builders  of 
some  of  the  famous  mounds  in  Ohio. 

The  myths,  legends,  and  sacred  rituals  of  the  Iro- 
quois are  i)erhaps  better  known  than  those  of  any  other 
Indians.  To  assist  in  the  preservation  of  these  they 
nsed  certain  aids  to  memory  in  the  shape  of  beads  or 
shells  strung  on  buckskin  strings,  the  combination  of 
the  beads  suggesting  certain  facts  and  events.  The 
Book  of  Rites,  edited  by  .Mr.  Horatio  Ilale,  is  an  ex- 
ample of  the  ritual  of  this  remarkable  i)eople.  The 
Cherokees,  likewise,  had  a  great  body  of  ritual  record- 
ed in  their  modern  native  alphabet.  Mr.  Mooney  has 
procured  practically  all  of  this— about  seven  hundred 
formulas— and  expects  to  translate  it  all.  A  part  has 
already  appeared  in  his  Sacred  Formulas  of  the  Chero- 
kees, in  the  Seventh  Annual  Ilejiort  of  the  Bureau  of 
Ethnology.     There  is  a  mass  of  similar  material  still 


'■  I'  i 


■A 


204 


TIIK  STUIIY   OF   THE   INDIAN. 


lf> 


III 


existing  in  many,  if  not  in  most  otlicr  tribes,  although 
few  of  these  extended  productions  have  been  reduced 
to  writing  and  transhited. 

The  principal  tribes  of  the  Iroquois  were  these  : 

Cayuga  =  people  of  the  "swampy  land."  South  of  Lake  On- 
tario, New  York. 

Cherokee.  Mountuin  region  of  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Ten- 
nessee. 

CoNESTooA  =  "lodge  pole  j)eople."  Lower  Susquehanna  Iliver, 
Pennsylvania,  and  Maryland. 

Erie  =  "  wild  eats."    South  of  Lake  Erie,  Ohio,  and  New  York. 

Neutral  Natiox.     West  of  Niagara  River,  Ontario. 

NoTTAWA  =  "snake,"  i.  e.,  enemy.     Southern  Virginia. 

OxEhU  =  people  of  the  "  stone."    Central  New  Y'ork. 

Oxoxuaga  =  people  of  the  "  little  hill."    Central  New  York. 

Sex  EC  A.    Western  New  Y''ork. 

TuscARORA  =  flax  or  hemp  pullers  (?)  (Hewitt ;  Morgan  makes  it 
"shirt  weavers").  The  name  refers  to  a  vegetable  cloth 
fibre.     Eastern  North  Carolina. 

Wyaxuot  or  IIuROXS — Huron  is  the  old  provincial  French  for 
"bear."  East  of  (ieorgian  Bay,  Ontario,  and  south  ;  south- 
west of  Lake  Erie  in  Ohio  and  Michigan. 

The  present  number  of  the  Iroquois  is  estimated  at 
about  44,000,  of  whom  about  9,000  are  in  Canada.  The 
Cherokees — one  of  the  five  civilized  tribes — make  up 
by  far  the  greater  part  of  these,  numbering  not  far 
from  28,000,  of  whom  more  than  20,000  are  in  Indian 
Territory,  the  remainder  forming  the  eastern  band, 
who  are  in  the  counties  of  Swain,  Jackson,  Cherokee, 
and  Graham,  in  North  Carolina.  The  Cherokee  na- 
tion, however,  includes  a  large  number  of  adopted 
whites  and  negroes.  Of  the  Cayugas  there  are  about 
1,300,  most  of  them  in  Canada,  but  a  few  in  New  York 
and  the  Indian  Territory.  About  2,400  Mohawks  are 
in  Canada,  as  are  also  1,000  Oneidas,  300  of  whom  are 
in  New  York  and  1,700  at  Green  Bay  agency,  AVis- 


THE  NORTH  AMERICANS. 


205 


consin  ;   350  Onoiulagas  are   in  (^inada,  and  550  en 
Now  York  reservations.     Of  tiie  3,100  Senecas,  12: 
are  at  the  Qiiapaw  agency,  Indian  Territory,  ^00  are 
in  Canada,  and  the  remainder  in  New  York.      Tiie 
Tuscaroras  number  about  750,  of  wliom  about  lialf 
are  in  Canada   and   half  in  New  York.      There  are 
:00  Wyandots,  300  at  tlie  Quapaw  agencv  and  400  in 
Canada.     Besides  these,  there  are  about  4,400  Indians 
of  tins  stock  known  as  Caughnawagas  and  St.  Kegis, 
in  Canada  and  southern  New  York,  wlio  seem  to  ho  -1 
mixture  of  all  the  tribes  of  the  Six  Nations,  the  Mo- 
hawks predominating.     All  the  Cherokees  and  all  the 
New  Y'ork  reservation  Indians  are  civilized  and  self- 
supporting. 

MUSKOGI. 

An  especial  interest  attaches  to  tlie  Muskogi  or 
Chocta-Muskhogi    linguistic  stock,   because   its^'sur- 
vivors  constitute  four  out  of  the   five  so-called  civi- 
lized   tribes,  and   also   because  there  is  a  reasonable 
probability  that  they  are  the  descendants  of  some  of 
those  people  who  built  the  great  mounds  in  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley  and   in   the  Gulf  States,  which  have 
given  rise  to  so  many  speculations  and  theories  as  to 
their  origin.    This  stock  inhabited  the  country  "from 
the   Savannah   Eiver  and   the  Atlantic  west  to  the 
Mississippi,  and  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  north  to 
the  Tennessee  River";  and  although  the  tribes  dif- 
fered somewhat  from  one  another  in  pliysical  charac- 
teristics, their  relationship  is  close. 

The  culture  of  this  people  was  high.  They  were 
industrious  cultivators  of  the  soil,  and  raised  large 
crops  of  corn,  beans,  squashes,  and  tobacco.  Their 
towns  were  large  and  fortified,  and  often  built  on 


!i 


|:.|;  ' 


l^^l^ 


\     -i-: 


'  M 


206 


1'IIE  STORY   OF   TlIK   INDIAN. 


high  mounds  iirtificially  constructetl,  iind  their  liousea 
substantial,  and  contuining  several  rooms.  Thougli 
made  of  stone,  their  \veai)ons  and  utensils  were  very 
finely  finished. 

'JMu'ir  religious  system  was  liighly  developed  and 
its  ritual  elaborate,  and  they  had  an  extensive  oral 
literature.  Their  mortuary  customs  were  singular, 
the  bodies  of  the  dead  in  some  tribes  being  ex})ose(l 
until  the  flesh  decayed,  when  the  bones  were  cleaned 
and  buried  in  the  gentile  mound. 

The  gentile  system  prevailed,  descent  being  in 
the  female  line.  Women  had  a  standing  equal  to 
that  of  men,  and  occasionally  one  filled  the  otlice 
of  cliief. 

The  neighbours  of  the  Muskogi  stock  were  the 
Algonquins  and  Iroquois  on  the  north,  the  Timu- 
quans  of  Florida,  and  the  isohited  Dakota  colony  of 
the  Biloxi  on  the  south,  and  the  Natchcs,  Tonicas, 
and  southern  Dakotas  on  the  west. 

Some  of  the  tribes  of  the  Muskogi  stock  were  : 

ALinAMu  =  "  burnt  eloaring"  {7wt  "here  we  rest")  (Gatsclict). 

On  the  Alabiinia  Kiver,  Alabama. 
Apalaciii  =  *' people  on  the  other  side  "  (Gatschet).    Apalaclii 

Bay,  Floi-ida. 
CiiAKTA  or  OiiorTA — from    a  Spanish   word,    meaning  "flat 

head"  (Gatschet).     Southern  ^Mississippi. 
CniKASA  or  Chickasaw  =  "rebels  or  renegades."      Northern 

Mississippi. 
IIiTcniTi  =  "  looking    up    ahead  "    (Gatschet).      Southeastern 

Georgia. 
Maskogi  or  Creek  Proper — doubtfully  from  the  Algonquin 

word  masktgo,  meaning  "svvami)y."    Central  Alabama. 
Seminole  =  "  wanderers  or  runaways."    Northern  and  Central 

Florida. 
Yamasi  =  "  gentle  "  (Gatschet)     Southern  coast  of  South  Caro- 
lina. 


THE   XOIITII   AMERICANS. 


2(17 


Tlio  territory  occupied  by  tliis  stock  is  tliiis  seen 
to  bo  not  very  hirge,  yet  owincr  to  their  industrious 
bjibits  and  their  adai>t!ibiiity  to  civilized  pursuits,  they 
liave  made  a  good  struggle  for  existence,  aiul  to-day- 
are  doing  well  aiul  increasing  in  nundjers.  The  Ai)a- 
hichi  and  Vaniasi  are  extinct,  and  but  i'ew  remain  of 
tliG  Alibamu  ;  but  tluM-e  are  10,000  C'hoetaws,  •.>,,-iO() 
Chiekasaws,  9,,-.00  Creeks,  and  '2,im  Seminoles  in'the 
Indian  IVrritory,  a  few  Choetaus  in  Louisiana,  and 
about  400  Seminoles  in  Florida.  The  Indians  of  this 
stock  who  are  in  the  Indian  Territory  are  civilized  and 
well  to  do. 


Besides   tlie   stocks   already  si)oken   of,  tljere  are 
others,  whose  importance  deserves  a  more  exteiuled 
mention  than  can  here  be  given.     One  of  these  is  the 
Shoslioni,  a  family  occupying  the  IJocky  :dountains 
aiul  the  phuns  on  the  flanks  of  that  range  from  llvd 
Deer's  liiver— which  flows  into  the  Saskatchewan— 
or  perliaps  even  from  tlie  head  of  Peace  Ifiver,  south 
through  ]\[exico.      This  stock   includes  tribes  whose 
names  are  well  known,  and  its  culture  ranged  from 
the  lowest  to  the  highest,  from  the  miserable  I)ig<rors 
and  Sheep-eaters  to  the  Aztecs,  who  had  some  acquaint- 
ance  with  metal,  and  far  exceeded  any  other  Xortli 
American  tribe  in  their  approach  to  civilization.     To 
this  stock  belong  the  brave  but  peaceful  Snakes,  the 
warlike  Comanches,  the  Pai-Utes,  the  Gosiutes,  the 
mountain-loving  Utes,  the  Mokis,  the  CJuaymas,  the 
IVrayas,  the  Papagos,  the  Pimas,  the  Yaquis,  the  Az- 
tecs, the   Tlascalans,  and   others   reaching   south   to 
Guatemala.      Dr.   Brinton   gives  forty-four  tribes  of 
this  stock,  divided  into   three   groups,  and  coverin<^ 
territory  from  British  to  Central  America. 


fFf 


<5i 


2C8 


THE  STOKY  OF  THE   INDIAN. 


Anotlier  fanuly  of  iniportaiice  is  tlie  Pawnee  or 
Caddo,  wlioso  territory  extended  interruptedly  from 
the  Gii'f  of  Mexico  to  the  u])per  Missouri.  They 
were  immigrants  from  the  soutiiwest,  probably  from 
the  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  California,  and  brought  with 
them  to  their  northern  home  some  religious  cere- 
monies and  beliefs  which  remind  us  of  the  Aztecs. 
The  usual  form  of  sacrifice  was  a  burnt  olTering. 
They  lived  in  permanent  villages,  tilled  the  soil,  and 
manufactured  pottery.  Some  of  their  traditions  al- 
lude to  a  time  when  a  wonum  was  their  chief. 

It  is  hoped  that  from  the  foregoing  i)ages  some 
notion  may  be  had  of  the  ^last  and  present  condition 
of  some  of  the  best- known  tribes  of  the  North  Amer- 
icans. 


1)4  "I 


INDEX. 


Afjriculture,  48,  64. 
AltroiKjuiiKs,  \>-i7. 
Aniniul  bulicls,  174,^05. 
Antelope,  87. 
Arrow  luakiiig,  14(3. 
Athabascans,  253. 
Atius  Tirdwa,  202. 
Axe,  152. 

Bear,  beliefs  about,  20(5. 

Beaver,  beliefs  about,  20(3. 

Berries,  05,  71. 

Berry  Child,  109. 

Big  Snake,  178. 

Boats,  100. 

Bone,  gambling  with,  27. 

Bow,  ir)(.). 

Bridled  Man,  115. 
Butt'alo  hunting,  71. 
Buffalo,  in  niytliology,  1[i'2. 
Buffalo,  saered  aniniul.,  205. 
Buffalo  stone,  (JO. 
Buffalo  trai)s,  57. 
Buffalo,  52,  et  seq. 

Bundles,  sacred,  91,  105,  189, 

218. 

Buzzard,  belief  about,  207. 

Caches,  49. 
Caddos,  208. 
Camas  root,  05,  72. 
Canoe,  157  et  seq. 
Cardinal  points,  210. 
Carving,  101. 
Children's  games,  17. 
Children,  17,  78. 


211, 


Cliristianity,  teacliings  of,  221. 
Clothing,  153. 
Coldmaker,  173. 
Corn,  Mother,  19(i,  203. 
Corn,  origin,  190,  203. 
Coup,  142. 
Creation,  ls3. 

Dakotas,  257. 

Dancing,  social,  24. 

Beer,  81. 

Dolls,  19. 

Dreams   and  dreaminir,  108.  100, 

175,210,217. 
Dress,  0,  37,  153. 
Dwellings,  144  et  seq. 


269 


Eagle,  beliefs  about,  207. 
Elk,  81,  87. 

Feasting,  9,  81. 

Ferret,  black-footed,  175. 

Firesticks,  239. 

Fishing,  49. 

Four  Bears,  97,  141. 

Future  life,  195  tt  seq. 

Gambling,  22,  24,  20,  i(J0,'l90. 
Game  as  food,  50. 
Gardens,  48. 
Gliosts,  190  et  seq. 
Giants,  184. 
Government,  245. 

Hands,  gambling  game,  27. 

Horse  racing,  29. 

Horses,  lirst  possession  of,  231. 


1',      ' 


:■  , 


270 


INDEX. 


k\i 


'    •!.  '''I 


:tj 


'\:&. 


Horses  taken  liy  war  parties,  ss. 
Ilouseliold  utensils,  l.')l. 
Iliiiitiii^'  Iditlalo,  71. 
Jliiiithi;,'  Jiioiiiitaiii  slieei).  S-J. 

Imiileiiients,  1-13  tt  wy. 
i-iiis'kiiii,  tlO. 
Irociuois,  201. 

Left  Ilaiul,  !i4. 
LodgtH,  144  it  ftq. 

Marria<,'c,  8,  80  tt  mq. 

Maul,  l.rJ. 

Medicine,  175. 

Medicine  man,  180. 

Medicine  sweat,  5. 

Missionaries,  '2'_'1. 

Moccasins,  1.j3. 

Moon,  ii04,  21."). 

Mountain  sheep,  81. 

Mountain  siieep.  liuntini:  tlio,  82. 

Musical  instruments,  lil2. 

Musko^ns,  20"). 

Nahurac,  205. 

Painting  bodies,  4,  25. 

Pawnees,  208. 

I'awnee  creation  mvtlis,  184. 

Pawnee  marriatre,  41. 

Pawnee-Skidi  %lit,  127. 

Pejntnican,  49. 

Picture  writing,  243. 

Piegan  and  Crow  and  firos  Ven- 
tres light,  134. 

Pipes  and  smoking,  31,  45,  101, 
202,  209. 

Pottery,  154. 

Prayers  and  praying,  52,  01,  68,  73, 
87,  91, 105, 175,  202,  210,  213,  215. 

lieincarnation,  199. 
lieligious  ceremonies,  52,  61,  68, 
73,  87,  91,  203,  204. 


Ming  game,  5,  21, 
Kootrt  fur  food,  04. 

Sacred   bundles,  91,  106,189,211, 

2  is. 
Sacrifices,  52,  OS,  87,  124,  204. 
Salmon  fishing,  00. 
Shields,  153, 
Shoshoni,  207. 
Skidi  war  woman,  104. 
Sledges,  150. 

Smoking,  31,  45,  101,  202,  209. 
Spirits,  190. 
Stars,  204,  210. 
Stick  game,  5,  21. 
Stone  implements,  143. 
Subsistence,  48. 
Sun,  204,  215. 
Sweat  lodge,  3,  5. 

Tliree  Suns,  12,30,82. 
Thunder,  204. 
Thunder  bird,  109. 
Thunder  pipe,  170. 
Tipi,  145. 

Tirawa,  184,  202  tt stq. 
Traps  for  game,  57. 
Travois,  150. 

Under-water  people,  106. 
Utensils,  143  et  seq. 

War  parties,  88  tt  stq. 

Weaving,  155. 

Wlicel  game,  21. 

White  Bear,  177. 

Wliite  men,  first  meeting,  224. 

Wife,  40. 

Windmaker,  173. 

Wolf  Calf,  232, 

Woman  changed  to  rock,  69. 

Woman's  position,  40,  244. 

Women,  daily  life  of,  0. 


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I  STORY  OF  THE  PEOrr.E 

OF    THE    UXITED    STATES, 

from   the    Rcvoliitioii    to   the   Civil 

War.     Hy  John  Hacii  McMasticr. 

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"  A  History  sui  generis  which  has  made  and  will  keep  its  own  place  in  our  litera- 
ture."—A'^tt/;  York  Evening  Post, 

"His  style  is  vigorous  and  his  treatment  candid  and  impartial."— AVw  Y'orh 
Tribune. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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If       !" 


I'l.-i 


I- 


3iB 


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11; 


D.  AHf'LLTON  &  CO.'S  HUHl.ICA TIONS. 


^ICriML    AFRICA  ;   or,    The  Coming  Continent,     A 
■*      Tour  of   I'.xploralion.      Hy   I-KANK  V'lNtKM',  author  of  "Tlic 

Land  of  tlic  Whit'-  Klcphaiu,"  etc.     With  Map  and  iu2  Illu>- 

tiulions.     8vo.     Cloth,  $5.(m>. 

Tiiis  t'lo  oir^h  and  comprehensive  work  furnishes  a  survey  of  the  entire  continent, 
will'  li  tlli^  ex))' ri(.Mii.cu  tr.ivdcr  has  i  iicuinn.ivi^aiKi  in  aiUlilutn  to  his  inland  c\pluiit> 
ti  iiiH.  The  hitter  liave  included  journeys  in  iiotthL-in  Alrica,  Madauascar,  sontiit-rn 
Mill  n,  and  an  expoihtiin  into  the  C  'unt(o  counivy  whirh  haH  rovcrcd  fre^h  t;Miind.  Miii 
b  If) ,  has  the  (Hstiru  tiun  of  (ircscntini;  .1  i  oniprchrnsive  siniMiiary,  instead  ot  ofTcrinK  .in 
accou  It  (>r one  special  disiri'.:!.  It  is  niorcr  clalxiratcly  iMiistraied  than  any  book  upun 
the  tiibjcct,  ailil  Contains  a  lar^c  map  catcfidly  correc  tid  to  ilate. 

"  Mr.  h'ratik  Nincent'!!  books  of  travel  ineiit  to  bo  ranked  atiionp  the  very  best,  not 
on'y  for  their  thoroughness,  hut  for  the  aniniaiion  of  tli''ir  narrative,  and  the  skill 
with  which  he  fastens  upon  Ids  reader's  innid  the  impression  made  upon  him  by  hii 
voyaninns." — liostoH  Satiini<iy  l\T,niii^  l$ii^-:tii\ 

"  A  new  voliimi:  from  Mr.  Krank  Vincent  is  always  woKonie,  for  the  reading  public 
have  learned  to  fi'tjard  him  as  on«  of  the  most  intelligent  And  uhserving  ot  traveler*,"— 
I^eiv  York  Tpibufii. 


A 


ROUND  AND  ABOUT  SOUTJf  AMERICA: 

Twenty  Months  of  Quest   and  Quriy.      lly   Ffa.nk  Vinxent. 

With  Maps,  Plans,  and  54  full-paj^e  Illustrations.     8vo,  xxiv  + 

473  P'igt-'s.     Ornamental  cloth,  $5.00. 

"  South  America,  with  its  civilization,  its  resources,  and  its  charms,  is  beinj;  con- 
stantly introduced  to  us,  and  as  i:oiis!antly  surprises  us.  .  ,  .  Thr  Parisian  who  thinks 
IIS  nil  barbarians  is  probably  not  denser  in  his  prejudices  than  most  of  us  are  about  our 
Southern  continent.  We  are  content  not  to  know,  there  seeming  to  he  no  reason  why 
we  should.  Fashion  has  not  yet  directed  her  steps  there,  and  there  has  been  nothing 
to  stir  us  out  of  our  lethariiy  .  .  .  Mr.  Vincent  observes  very  carefully,  is  always 
good-humored,  and  ^ivcs  us  the  best  of  what  he  sees.  .  .  .  The  reader  of  his  book  will 
gain  a  clear  idea  of  a  marvelous  country.  Maps-  and  illustrations  add  greatly  to  the 
value  of  this  work." — Xeiv  \'ork  Comiiiercitil  Aiivertiicr. 

"The  author's  style  is  unusually  simple  and  straightforward,  the  printing  is  re- 
m;irkably  accurate,  and  the  furty-od.l  illustrations  are  reftcshingly  original  for  the  most 
part." — rite  Nation. 

"Mr.  Vincent  has  siicceeiled  in  civing  a  most  interesting  arid  valuable  narrative. 
His  account  is  made  doiib'y  valuable  by  the  exceptionally  good  i'lusirations,  most  of 
them  photographic  reproductions.  The  printing  of  both  text  and  plates  is  beyond 
criticism." — Philadelphia  I  uluic  Ledger. 


I 


N  AND  OUT  OF  CENTRAL  AMERICA  ;  and 

other  Sketches  and  Studies  of  Travel.     By  Frank  ViNCtNT. 
With  Maps  and  Illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $2.00. 

"  Few  living  travelers  have  had  a  literary  success  equal  to  Mr.  Vincent's."— 
Har/ief's  li'eekly. 

"  Mr.  Vincent  has  now  <;een  all  the  most  interesting  parts  of  the  world,  having 
traveled,  during  a  total  period  of  eleven  years,  two  hundred  and  sixty-five  thousand 
miles.  His  personal  knowledge  of  man  and  Nature  is  probably  as  varied  and  complete 
as  that  of  any  person  living  " — .\'ew  York  tiome  yournal. 


New  York :   D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


ONS^ 

^'ontincni.  A 
ullior  of  "'I'lic 
I  and  1U2  lUus- 


le  entire  continent, 
lii>  inland  cxpltiiu- 
ila>;ascar,  soutiiern 
fre-li  j;r<)imil.  IIIh 
stead  ot  oflorinn  an 
tmn  any  buok  upon 

J  the  very  best,  not 
itivc,  and  the  sikill 
le  npiiii  liim  by  his 

r  the  rcadinn  public 
'iny  ot  travelers."— 


AMERICA  : 

RANK    ViNX'ENT. 

IS.     8vo,  xxiv  + 


arms,  is  being  con- 
l'ari>ian  who  thinks 
of  us  are  about  our 
:o  be  no  reason  why 
re  has  been  nothing 
arcfiilly,  is  always 
ider  of  his  book  will 
s  add  greatly  to  the 

the  printine  is  re- 
jriginal  for  the  most 

!  valuable  narrative. 
•lustrations,  most  of 
id  plates  is  beyond 


^R/CA  ;  and 

RANK   VlNCKNT. 

>2.00. 

I  Mr.  Vincent's."— 

f  the  world,  having 

sixty-five  thousand 

varied  and  complete 


\i  Avenue. 


